


Where We Begin

by rexisnotyourwriter



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Child Murder, Detectives, Divorce, Drama, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5291357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexisnotyourwriter/pseuds/rexisnotyourwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months after the trial ends, Alec Hardy and Ellie Miller are reunited in Broadchurch. The Former Detectives Club has a new (old) case on their hands to juggle along with the continuing effect of Danny's murder and trial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Republishing of deleted fic. Beta'd by Scout (hardythehermitcrab)

The summer breeze was shifting to winter winds as Broadchurch tried to return to a state of  
equilibrium. Things would never be the same as before - they couldn’t - but they were in recovery.

The Miller house was ever the same from the outside but near unrecognizable once inside. Every  
wall had been painted, a number of the photographs were replaced, as well as some furniture. The  
first thing Ellie got rid of was their bed. It was old and creaked anyways, not that she had to  
worry about the creaking now. The house was different, but it was still home. A new home.

She put in for a transfer back to Broadchurch as soon as she was back at work and it didn’t take long for it to be granted. She was DS Miller once again, and it felt good. The return was a bit awkward at first, mostly coming from the other officers rather than herself. A few sharp glances from the Chief Superintendent fixed that.

There was a temporary DI when Ellie got there, DI Barton. He was a bit of a knob, and not the  
kind she was used to. He was the type of person who had all of the rules and regulations  
memorized and followed them to the letter, but would forget where he left his tea, or pen or what  
have you, half a dozen times a day. One day she got a bit frustrated with him as his hands fiddled  
through the papers on his desk searching for his pen. She snatched it from behind his ear and  
handed it to him. He wasn’t even phased. He gave her an “oh, thank you” and misplaced it twice  
more that day.

Things could have been worse though; she didn’t have to deal with him for that long. She was  
worried his position would turn permanent until the Chief Superintendent called her into her office  
one day and offered her the job.

“We haven’t posted it yet. I’ve been waiting since you got back to see how things were going and  
all. I’d be thrilled if you would accept the position. I know you might need some time to think  
about it, and I completely understand if you decide not to, but you’re the best for the job.”

Ellie was stunned.

“Take a couple days and think it over. You can let me know by the end of the week.”

She accepted the job first thing next morning. She didn’t need the day to think about it really,  
almost said yes right on the spot, but thought it best to at least sleep on it.

Life had taken a miraculous turn. She had her dream job, her boys, and she was finding her place  
back in town. It had been a slow go with Beth even after Joe had left. They eased into things.  
First it was the occasional coffee, then lunch dates. By now they were having family dinners  
again. Chloe would even sit for Fred sometimes. The pieces of her life were being picked up,  
and though not all of them were still there, the picture was becoming clearer more and more each  
day.

* * *

 

“Mom!”

Ellie’s eyes snapped open and she rolled over to check the time. She was going to be late, but she  
knew that almost as soon as she heard Tom call her. You learn to differentiate the “mom”s: which  
are calls of distress, which are pleading whines for their way, and, in this case, which one meant  
she had overslept and wouldn’t have time to get her arse in the shower.

“Please don’t let it be one of those days,” she muttered as she dragged her half-asleep self to the  
bathroom.

Her plea felt in vain.

When she made it downstairs she found Tom loading the dishwasher and Fred at the table with  
the remnants of his breakfast on the table, a small puddle of milk with two Cheerios floating in it.

She didn’t think it was possible, but Tom had grown even more in the past few months, and not  
just in stature.

“Thanks for feeding Fred, love, but next time I don’t mind if you get me up a bit earlier, yeah?”  
she said giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

He rolled his eyes and smirked.

“I did. You told me to give you twenty more minutes.”

She shook her head at herself as she grabbed a cloth to wipe the mess Fred had left on the table  
and the dribbles of milk from his chin.

“I only gave you fifteen,” Tom added.

“I give you permission not to listen to sleepy mom anymore,” she said grabbing a granola bar and  
shoving it into her pocket.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, picked up Fred, and managed to grab her keys from the  
counter. Life had become a balancing act, but she was getting good.

Tom opened the door for her.

“Don’t forget your lunch,” she called back to him.

 

 

She was counting down the minutes until she could leave to meet Beth for lunch. It had been a  
slow day full of paperwork and minor annoyances, and she was running on weak coffee and a  
granola bar. One of the DCs was chomping an apple at an unnecessary volume and clicking his  
pen in a rhythm that almost sounded like “It’s a Small World”. She nearly ripped it out of his  
hand when she walked by his desk. Days like this she was glad she had her own office. The  
walls weren’t soundproof, but they helped.

Her first few weeks as a DI were more stressful than she had expected, but not in terms of the  
actual job. Every time she got a call her heart stopped as she waited to hear if they’d found a body  
somewhere. It was only ever petty theft or vandalism. The biggest cases she worked were drug  
busts. Sometimes there was violence over territory, but nothing like the gang wars you see on the  
telly, mostly just fist fights.

The paperwork she had to tackle today was from a recent marijuana bust. The wankers had been  
lacing it with PCP for an extra kick. Two of the dealers were in their twenties but the third was  
barely sixteen. She might have checked to see if he went to the same school as Tom. He didn’t,  
but it made her worry all the same.

There was a knock on her door.

“Come in.”  
It was Superintendent Jenkinson.

“Just wanted to remind you of our meeting later this afternoon.”

“Right, yes.”

She had told her about it earlier this week but didn’t say much about what it was for. Ellie  
assumed it was just a check-in type thing.

Her phone rang. Jenkinson nodded and closed the door behind her.

“DI Miller.” She answered the phone in her perfected calm yet professional voice.

“El, it’s me,” Beth said.

“Oh, hi. What’s up?” Her voice switched from detective to civilian on a dime.

“Lizzie’s been a bit fussy today. Do you mind if we push lunch back about fifteen minutes?”

Ellie could hear the frustration in Beth’s voice and Lizzie crying in the background. It wasn’t that  
long ago that she was in her position.

“No, not at all. That’s fine.”

“Thanks, see you then.”

“Right, see you.”

She hung up the phone and checked the clock for what felt like the millionth time that morning.  She now had just over half an hour left before she could leave. Too much time to just waste but not enough to start a task and finish it. Her fingers flicked through the mess of papers on her desk and resolved to at least make an attempt at organizing them for when she got back. The faint sound of a clicking pen drifted through the office walls. She sighed. Time couldn’t move fast enough.

* * *

Beth arrived just before the hostess came to bring them to a table. She looked less frantic than she  
had sounded over the phone earlier, probably because Lizzie was now sleeping soundly in her  
pram. 

The hostess led them to a booth by the window. The place was surprisingly empty at this time of  
day, but they were both happy for the stillness.

Even though she’d been sitting all day, it felt good to sit in something that wasn’t a desk, a seat  
that didn’t confine her with arm rests. Ellie scanned the menu immediately, paying little attention  
to the hostess’ speech on their specials. She was famished.

Beth half listened, gave the hostess a smile, and turned her attention to Ellie once she had left.

“So how’s your day been?”

She lowered the menu and groaned. Beth smiled knowingly. At least they’d both had shit days.  They could commiserate together.

“Almost late for work. Overslept. Sort of expected the rest of the day to be a bit shit. They always seem to start like that,” she said, returning her eyes to the options before her.

She didn’t know why she was even looking. She’d been craving fish ’n’ chips all morning. Her brain hadn’t quite woken up yet.

Beth’s smile faded. She knew all too well. Sometimes she still saw the flashing numbers of her alarm clock when she closed her eyes. The same ones that met her that morning. It felt like yesterday and it felt like years. It hadn’t even been one yet.

Ellie looked up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” Beth said. “Just tired.”

Ellie knew she was lying but she also knew it wasn’t a time to press it. She changed the subject.

“She’s grown so much,” she said looking at Lizzie.

“Yeah,” Beth said. “She starting to look a bit more like Chlo now.”

She smiled sadly at the realization as she examined her sleeping face.

“She rolled over the other day,” she added.

“She’ll be crawling before you know it.”

“Not too soon, I hope.”

Ellie smiled at her. They both fell silent, but it was a comfortable silence. A silence they needed.

She took a sip of her water, which was almost empty. Her stomach grumbled.

_Where was that damn waitress?_

 

The waitress was late taking and bringing their order as well as the bill. Time was not on her side  
today; it dragged on then rushed all at once like a wave crashing against the sea. She threw a few  
bills on the table, probably more than was necessary , and said a quick goodbye to Beth and the  
now awake, but still drowsy, Lizzie.

She fumbled to find her keys in the car park. They always sank to the depths of her purse, that  
bottom corner that you can never seem to reach at first. She finally fished them out, dropping a  
few tangled receipts in the process that she scrambled to pick up and shove into her pocket.  
It was already ten past the time she should’ve been back, but she decided to take the “shortcut”. It  
saved her a couple blocks and a traffic light. As she turned the corner she was stopped abruptly  
by a construction worker.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She sat there for almost five minutes drumming the steering wheel as a dump truck made several  
attempts to back out and turn around. It wasn’t necessarily crucial that she be back on time; things  
were slow anyways. She didn’t like how it looked though, and how it made her feel, like her  
balancing act was too wobbly. She’d still get the odd pity smile from people in town. She hated  
it.

If she hadn’t been paying close enough attention when she pulled into the car park at the station  
she would’ve dinged the idiot who was parked in her spot. It wasn’t technically her spot. It  
wasn’t designated or anything, but it was known that’s where she always parked. She backed up  
to go in the empty spot next to it, but of course this idiot parked slanted and over the line.

“Arsehole.”

She made the best of the empty spot, having to park on an angle as well in order to fit. Before  
entering the station she scribbled the license place on the back of one of the receipts from her  
purse. Depending on who it belonged to she’d see if she could get someone to write up a ticket.  
She was just about done with life today.

She slipped into the station and tried to make it to her office swiftly and quietly. Her hand reached  
out to open the door when a voice stopped her.

“Oh good, there you are.”

Shit. She forgot about their meeting. Then again, she was never given an exact time.

“Sorry,” Ellie said as she made her way back over to Jenkinson’s office.

“I was hoping to get a chance to talk with you alone beforehand,” she said tentatively as Ellie  
pushed open the already slightly ajar door.

The man sitting in one of the chairs across the desk turned his head and looked up at her. She  
stood, frozen, staring at the slightly bewildered expression on his face, only imagining what her  
own must look like. It was a face she hadn’t seen in months.

He stood up and smiled awkwardly.

“Miller,” he nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

The phones lit up and rang like a symphony. This happened whenever a major incident occurred.  
It would start with one call, then another, and another, increasing in frequency until the noise  
seemed endless. Based on the fragments of conversation he picked up from the communications  
officers he concluded the conductor of this particular piece was a head-on collision likely blocking  
traffic. His suspicion was confirmed moments later when the information popped up on one of his  
many screens.

He didn’t have to look at the map anymore when analyzing these situations. After weeks of  
training and maneuvering the roads of his new town, the layout was ingrained in his brain,  
visually at any rate (sometimes he had to consult street names).

His eyes flicked down to the time on the bottom of his main screen. It was after 9:30am; the  
morning rush would be slowing down. They moved to check which officers were available.  
He’d send Collins and Parker; they were out patrolling right now anyways. Carter could handle  
traffic control. He smirked to himself at his assignments. Almost all the coppers hated dealing  
with redirecting cars, but Carter especially. He felt he was above it. Maybe if he filled out his  
damn paperwork properly he’d get better assignments.

He radioed Parker’s car, but it was Collins’ deep voice that answered.

“There’s a three car collision south bound on A229 at Earl Street,” Hardy said.

“We’re on it.”

He could hear the faint grinding of rubber on pavement as the car pulled a u-turn.

Now for Carter. He was scheduled at the station today. His phone rang twice before he picked  
up, and there was a deliberate pause before he answered in his usual superior tone.

“PC Carter.”

Hardy almost smiled. He could hear the familiar background noise of the other side of the station  
and the hint of boredom in Carter’s voice.

“You’re needed at A229 and Earl Street, three car collision.”

“Right then,” Carter replied smugly.

“Collins and Parker are on their way there now to check it out and will need your assistance  
managing traffic.”

Carter’s breath crackled through the phone.

“Right,” he said, trying to maintain his dignity, and failing. “On my way.”

The phone clicked in Hardy’s headset. The wanker should be glad he gets to leave the office at  
all. He let out a soft sigh as the sound of the phones slowed, then ceased.

 

Hardy’s new job was less than ideal, but at least he had authority and benefits. There wasn’t a DI  
job to be found in or near town when he got here. He would’ve settled for a DS position, but  
there weren’t any of those either, so he made the transition to dispatcher. When he saw what the  
shifts would be like he was hesitant, but Superintendent Grieve was keen to have him on board.  
He was even able to negotiate doing night shifts every other rotation. Sometimes it was every  
third. His new reputation was still something he was getting used to. The side-eyed glances and  
whispers from officers had been replaced with respectful nods. His days off fell on weekends, or  
at least as often as could be managed. That was another thing he had negotiated. It was the best  
time he could visit Daisy. Tess didn’t like planning things on school nights.

Sandbrook was a twenty-five minute drive at the minimum, near forty in traffic. He thought it  
would be good being closer geographically. He thought they’d get together on a regular basis.  
He thought maybe eventually Daisy would come and spend a weekend with him every so often.  
She didn’t. At first he was lucky if he saw her once a week, but now the gaps between visits  
were growing wider. She wasn’t the little girl who waited on the front steps for him to get home  
from work anymore. She was a teenager with school and friends, her own life. The last time the  
three of them met up for dinner he thought he picked up a subtle remark about there being a  
boyfriend of sorts. Daisy shushed Tess. When he asked Tess about it later she brushed it off,  
saying it was nothing.

He thought a lot of things would be different when he left Broadchurch, and they were, just not in  
the way he had expected. His first few weeks in town were spent in a hotel. It felt like tradition,  
spending the night in a hotel after a case, although after Sandbrook it wasn’t the case itself that  
drove him there.

He traded his hotel room for a tiny one-bedroom flat that almost made him miss his seaside shack.  
Once the pay cheques started coming in he began searching for a car, an automatic. The gears  
drove him mad. He looked around at a few used ones and couldn’t believe the shit some people  
were trying to sell. Thankfully the last one he looked at before giving up was better than decent; a  
2002 Toyota Corolla Verso. The man selling it was overly chatty, telling him how great the car  
was for a family.

“You got kids?” the man had asked.

He’d told him his name, but Hardy hadn’t bothered to remember it.

“Yeah.”

Hardy signed the papers quickly.

“How many?”

“Just the one.”

The man’s phone rang before he could pester him further.

“Sorry, better grab this. It’s my wife; you know how they are,” he said prodding him gently with  
his elbow. “We all settled here?”

“Yeah,” Hardy said, handing him back the papers.

“Fantastic! Enjoy,” the man said quickly before answering his mobile.

Even in an automatic it had taken him longer than he thought to get back in the swing of driving.  
It’d been so long. He managed not to hit anyone. His mirror grazed a pole in a car park once,  
but that didn’t count.

Hardy glanced at his watch as he put the completed files on his desk into their proper tray. Fifteen  
minutes until he was off. His stomach turned. He counted the hours until he would be back in  
Broadchurch. Part of him wondered why he’d even agreed to take the meeting. He had a decent  
thing going where he was. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. And he was closer to Daisy. Well,  
sort of.

He eyed the papers in his to-do pile. He glanced at the top page and immediately spotted three  
errors. He rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the window that he was lucky enough to be  
next to. Most of the other stations had another operator or a wall to look at when their eyes tired  
of the screens.

A patrol car whipped out of the car park, flashing its lights as it turned the corner. Two DC’s  
were having a smoke break. The shorter one was laughing while the other smirked and took a  
long drag. Another patrol car pulled into the lot next to them and DI Darya and DS Brooklyn  
stepped out. The shorter DC tried to compose himself. The other straightened his posture slightly,  
still leaning against the side of the building. They exchanged greetings before Darya placed an  
approving hand on Brooklyn’s back. They smiled as they turned to walk inside. Hardy turned his  
attention back to his desk.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was the reminder he set to make sure he left work on time.  
Superintendent Grieve had let him work a half shift so he could get to the meeting on time. He  
began organizing his desk somewhat so he’d know where he left off the next time he came in.  
When the clock hit the hour he got up to leave. It felt wrong to leave any sooner. He respected  
Grieve. They had a silent understanding of one another. Maybe it was because they were both  
Scottish and divorced.

Hardy passed by his office on his way out of the station. He looked in. Grieve gave him a small  
smile and a nod that Hardy returned. The crisp air hit his face as he left the building and coursed  
through his lungs, reviving them from the stale air they’d been breathing. Soon enough it would  
be replaced with the salty ocean air and the smell of chips.

 

He forgot about the accident on his way out of town, and by the time he realized it was too late to  
take another route. His fingers alternated between gripping the wheel and drumming lightly on  
the top of it impatiently as he inched the car forward. He tilted his head to get a better look ahead.  
Carter was visible in his reflective gear waving and stopping the cars. When he got close enough  
he could see the painfully irritated expression on his face. Hardy glanced at him as he drove by,  
but Carter didn’t notice; he was preoccupied and rather flustered by someone trying to jaywalk  
through the traffic. He almost smiled.

His nerves returned as soon as he connected onto the M20. He’d been delayed more than he  
expected, but if he sped he’d still make it on time. He felt the weight of his eyelids when he  
blinked and had to force them back open. He cranked the air conditioning up, directing the  
airflow to his face. His shift had started at six am and he’d been up since almost five. He’d slept  
for a full eight hours but woke feeling as if he hadn’t slept at all. The nightmare of Sandbrook no  
longer haunted his dreams, but the restlessness persisted. Maybe he was just getting old.

He stretched his neck to the side, rubbing the back of it with his hand. The muscles underneath  
his skin felt like a bundle of knots. The edge of his palm brushed against the stubble that came  
down the front of his neck. He had shaved it off when he came back. He wasn’t sure why he did  
it. It just felt like something he should do. He met with Tess and Daisy for dinner that night.  
Tess found it rather amusing and gave her a reason to make small comments on his “new face”  
throughout dinner. Daisy gave him a quizzical look and then resumed texting. He went home  
that night and stared in the mirror. He looked naked. After that, he decided to let it grow, just  
enough so that it would cover his face.

The radio began to crackle. He fiddled with the preset stations and the dial, but there was nothing  
he could stand. He should really get some CDs. Usually he preferred the silence but today his  
thoughts were reeling and he longed for a distraction, an escape from his own head.

He played out multiple scenarios in his head on how things would go in preparation, but it didn’t  
help to calm him. They hadn’t spoken since they said their goodbyes, which surprised him while  
at the same time not surprising him at all. She was a DI now, Superintendent Jenkinson mentioned  
when she called him. She finally got her job, he’d thought. The rest of his phone call with  
Jenkinson was vague. She’d requested he come to town to discuss a job proposition, but wouldn’t  
say much else. Of course she had called during his break at work on a day where he wasn’t in the  
mood to take any of that shit (multiple “urgent” calls regarding a hysterical man whose cat ran  
away or got lost or was stuck or something like that). He almost hung up on her until she agreed  
to disclose more information. It would be a detective position; Miller would be there. He heard  
one of the operators, who was quite annoyed by this point and trying extremely hard to remain  
professional, attempting to calm down the hysterical cat man. He told Jenkinson he’d be there.

 

The exit came sooner than he expected. If the lane next to him hadn’t have been empty he  
probably would have missed it. He checked the time. Shit. He hadn’t been paying attention. He  
was supposed to be there in four minutes and that was doubtful. Naturally he hit almost every red  
light in town. He saw a tall bald man walking down the street; his stomach lurched and his bionic  
heart raced. When he drove past, he saw in his mirror it was just Nigel.

The clock hit five past the hour as he turned into the car park and then turned sharply into the  
nearest available stall. It was a shitty park job, all crooked and partially in the other lane, but he  
didn’t have time to fix it. Jenkinson was walking out of her office just as he stepped into the station.

“Ah, Detective Hardy,” she said spotting him.

He nodded.

“Sorry I’m late.”

She looked at her watch and smiled. It was six minutes past.

“That’s quite alright,” she said opening the door to her office.

There were two chairs set up across from hers.

She scanned outside the door one last time before closing it behind her. He noticed her fingers  
tapping against the door nervously. He shoved his hands in his pockets and let his eyes wander  
around the room, jumping from plaque to plaque. She looked up at him.

“Please, take a seat.”

He took a seat in the chair furthest from the door. She remained standing.

“Would you like a cup of tea or anything?”

“No, thank you.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek. He didn’t know what was worse, this or the drive.

She opened the door again and peered out. After a few silent minutes she left. The door was  
almost closed, but not quite. He stared at the spot where the edge of the door rested against the  
frame. He heard Jenkinson’s voice, followed by a familiar one he hadn’t heard in months. His eyes  
quickly shifted to his lap where his hands were fidgeting.

The door opened and he turned to look. Out of all the reactions he had planned in his head, the  
look of utter shock on her face was not one of them. It stunned him.

“What?” she said.

Also not one of the first words he thought he’d hear from her. He rose from his seat and nodded.

“Miller.”

His hands found their way into his pockets again.

“Why don’t you both take a seat,” Jenkinson said.


	3. Chapter 3

They stood awkwardly as if neither of them had heard Jenkinson.

“Please, sit down,” she repeated.

Ellie snapped out of the initial shock and quickly took a seat. Hardy did the same, but slower.

“My apologies for the vagueness regarding the matter, but I felt it would be best to discuss it with  
you both here.”

Hardy glanced at Ellie. She was staring straight ahead. He turned his attention back to Jenkinson.

“Funding has finally come through to open up a Cold Case Investigation Team in Broadchurch.  The Commissioner has specifically requested that the two of you head it up.”

She paused and gauged their reactions. Ellie looked slightly quizzical. Hardy’s eyes turned down  
as soon as they met Jenkinson's.

“You work well together,” she added factually. “They’ve been wanting to form this department for a while now.”

Jenkinson paused again, hoping for more of a reaction before continuing. Ellie looked lost in  
thought. Hardy had crossed his arms, still staring at his shoes.

“Would that mean I’d have to be a DS again?” Ellie asked.

Jenkinson smiled.

“No, you wouldn’t have to.”

Hardy raised his head along with an eyebrow. Jenkinson caught it.

“Don’t worry, neither would you. Usually teams have a DI, a DS, and a few DCs but the  
Commissioner is quite set on having you both on board, even if that means two DIs. I would  
oversee the team; you’d pick your own cases for the most part unless something pertinent came  
up.”

“Are we to decide right now, then?” Hardy asked after a silence.

“No. I realize this is sudden. You have the week to think about it and get back to me.”

“So, we have to both agree on this? What if only one of us wants to do it?” Ellie asked.

Hardy shifted in his seat.

Jenkinson opened her mouth to answer; she hesitated before continuing.

“Well, I hadn’t imagined one of you would take the job without the other, honestly.”

Ellie glanced at Hardy. He was looking intently at his folded hands, fiddling with his fingers.

“As I said, you’ll have time to think it over.”

The rest of the meeting consisted of Jenkinson going over the nitty gritty details: hours, salary, that  
sort of thing. They listened in silence.

“Any questions?” she asked when she was finished.

They both shook their heads at the same time. Jenkinson tried to contain her smirk.

She stood up; Hardy and Ellie followed suit.

“Looking forward to hearing from you.”

Ellie gave her a small smile. Hardy nodded.

They moved to leave. Despite being furthest from the door, Hardy got there first and opened it for  
her. She mumbled a thank you (at least he thought) and walked briskly past him.

“Miller,” he called after her.

She was halfway to her office. She stopped and turned around, his brown eyes on her.

“Yeah?” she said.

He gave her one of his looks, his “seriously?” one. She walked back over to where he was  
leaning against the wall just outside Jenkinson’s office.

“How’ve you been?” he asked when she had reached him.

“Oh, you know. Fine.”

“Good,” he said shoving his hands into his pockets.

She fidgeted with the edge of her blazer and her eyes looked at everything in the room but his.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t keep you from your work,” he mumbled to the ground.

“Yeah, I’ve got things-“

“But we should probably-“

“Yeah, quite right.”

“-Talk about the, you know-“

“Job thing.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

The bustle of the office filled the silence that had fallen between them.

“Ehm, so,” Hardy started.

“Tomorrow?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Meet here at noon? We can grab a bite or something,” she suggested.

Hardy nodded.

“See you then, Miller.”

She nodded back.

“See you.”

He watched her turn around and make a beeline to her office. He let out a deep breath he didn’t  
realize he’d been holding in and turned to walk out of the station.

* * *

 

He hadn’t planned on spending the night in town, but he didn’t work the next day and it didn’t  
make sense to drive back and forth. He made the familiar drive from the station to the Trader’s  
Hotel, stopping at the shop on the way to pick up a toothbrush and paste. There was enough  
room on the street in front of the hotel when he got there so he didn’t have to try and parallel park.  
On the drive over he thought of what he would say to Becca Fisher if she asked why he was  
here. He decided on saying “I’m on business” and leave it at that. Maybe she wouldn’t even be  
at the desk. He could hope.

When he walked in she was there, her wavy blonde hair loosely pulled back. She didn’t look up  
until he was standing in front of the desk. She had changed her perfume.

“Oh,” she said. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

She was clearly stunned. He seemed to be having that effect on people today.

“Um, sorry,” she laughed awkwardly, realizing she had probably been staring like a wide-eyed  
git. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a room for tonight, if you’ve got one.”

She consulted her computer screen.

“You’re in luck. We’ve got one left.”

“Great.”

“And it’s your old room, too,” she smiled.

_Great._

He reached into his pocket for his wallet. He slid his credit card across the counter.

No small talk yet. So far so good.

Becca handed him the registration card and a pen.

“So,” she said. “What brings you back to Broadchurch?”

“I’m on business.”

She paused and looked at him, concerned. Shit.

“Not that kind of business,” he added.

“That’s the last thing we need,” she said.

He could tell she was more relieved that it wouldn’t affect business rather than the town.

She handed him his keys.

“There you are.”

“Thanks.”

When he got to his room it felt familiar and new all at once, like coming home to an empty house  
after a long vacation. Only it hadn’t been a vacation, far from it. He looked around instinctively  
for a place to put his luggage only to remember he didn’t have anything except for toothbrush and  
paste in his coat pocket. He recalled the odd look Becca had given him before he left the desk.  
He sat down on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his eyes near the bridge of his nose before  
burying his face in his hands.

“Fuck,” he mumbled.

God knows what she must have thought, him booking a room for a single night with no luggage,  
saying he was “on business”. Maybe it didn’t look as suspicious as he thought. He hoped.

It was still just the afternoon and he was exhausted. He scanned channels on the telly until well  
into the evening. He hadn’t realized he’d skipped supper until there was nothing remotely  
interesting on anymore. Not that he was paying much attention to the programs. His mind was on  
the proposal. It reminded him how much he wanted to be a DI again, to work on real cases. He  
wouldn’t be as close to Daisy anymore, but he didn’t suppose that would change how often he  
saw her.

The rest of his night was spent hoping tomorrow would go better than today.

* * *

 

Ellie barely got any work done for the rest of the day. Her mind had been reeling since the  
meeting. After Hardy had left, Jenkinson called Ellie back into her office.

“I’m sorry that had to be sprung on you like that,” she said.

“Yeah, well…a bit of a warning next time would’ve been nice.”

“I did say I had planned to talked to you just beforehand.”

Ellie looked sheepishly at her shoes. If only she hadn’t have been late.

“You couldn’t have told me sooner?”

“If I had, would you have agreed to it?”

She thought about it and remained silent.

Jenkinson switched from her authoritative voice to her warmer one.

“I think it would be a good thing,” she said. “I really do.”

Ellie looked up at her. Her eyes were sincere. Ellie nodded.

“Right. Back to work.”

 

She mulled the situation over when she got back to her desk. She’d have the same benefits, same  
pay, same title. She’d have better hours, more freedom. All in all, it seemed to have few  
downsides. It would mean change though. She was bloody well sick of change. She’d only just  
felt she had a handle on her new life. But would this actually be much of a change? She’d still be  
doing detective work. It would be less stressful, at least as far as time was concerned.

She groaned and tried to put it out of her mind, at least until the next day. Maybe she’d let Hardy  
decide for her.

A car honked outside and it reminded her of the incident in the car park. She pulled out the  
receipt with the license plate number on it and typed it into the database.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

_His car would be blue._

* * *

 

Hardy pulled up at the station just before noon the next day. Ellie walked out just as he was  
closing his car door. She walked over to him, her orange jacket draped over her arms. It was  
overcast, but it looked like rain.

He looked at it and almost smiled.

“Ready?” she said.

“Yeah.”

He leaned against his car. He thought he felt a raindrop.

“So, uh, yours or mine?”

“Oh, right,” he said.

They’d never done this before.

“We can take mine,” she suggested.

Based on that parking job, God only knows what kind of a driver he was.

“Sure.”

They got in and she pulled out of the car park. She hadn’t asked where he wanted to go, not on  
purpose though. They had always gone to the same place; it just felt natural.

“How are Tom and, ehm, Fred?”

“They’re good. Grown like crazy though, both of them.” Ellie wished she’d kept the radio on to  
fill the silent voids. “Are you back in Sandbrook now, or…”

“No, the town over.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.”

In one swift move, Ellie parked the car in the closest stall perfectly between the lines.

 

The hostess sat them by the window. Ellie ordered fish and chips, again. Hardy got a BLT.

“A BLT? Really?” Ellie said when the waitress had left.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s basically just a salad between two pieces of toast. It’s hardly even a meal.”

“There’s bacon in it.”

“So?”

He shook his head, putting his glasses back in his pocket. He leaned back and folded his arms.

“Have you thought about it?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit,” she replied, casually ignoring the fact that she’d lost at least two hours of sleep over  
it. “You?”

“Yeah. What’re you thinking, Miller?”

She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time. He’d trimmed his beard and overall  
looked more put together than she was used to. His eyes still had that same weariness about them;  
strong, but weathered.

“What are you thinking,” she asked back.

He gave her that look again. She rolled her eyes.

“I dunno,” she sighed.

He nodded in agreement.

“Last thing you probably want is to wind up back here,” she joked.

He looked at her side of the table. She was ripping up the corner of her napkin with one hand.

“Looks like you have a good thing going here. DI Miller,” he smirked.

She smiled.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Right,” he said.

She picked up on the faint note of disappointment in his voice.

“Do you…do you want the job?”

He looked at her, not knowing quite what to say.

“Well,” he started.

“You’d leave a DI job closer to your daughter for this?”

“Who told you I was a DI?”

“No one, I just assumed…”

“I’m not,” he said.

His eyes were fixated on a coffee ring stain on the table.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m a dispatcher. It’s not that bad.”

It was Ellie’s turn for the “seriously?” look.

“Alright, it’s mostly shit, are you happy?”

She smiled. So did he.

“You want to do this then?”

“Do you?” he asked, surprised by her eagerness.

“I asked first.”

“I’m game if you are.”

She nodded, still smiling.

“Look at us,” she said. “Returning detectives club.”


	4. Chapter 4

The basement of the Broadchurch station was home to their new division. When Hardy arrived  
for his first day on the job it wasn’t hard to figure out where to go. He followed the DCs carrying  
boxes of case files down the stairs to the large room around the corner. The sign next to the door  
still read “Storage”.

When he walked in that’s exactly what their supposed office looked like. There were shelves  
along the right and left walls, empty for now. The boxes looked too big to fit so they were lined  
up and stacked in front of them. The only empty space was in the middle of the room by the back  
wall where two desks had been set up. It was the only wall with a window, a long one near the  
ceiling just above ground level. The morning sun shone on the desks like a spotlight. There were  
no blinds.

The DCs each put down their boxes and returned upstairs. He suspected there would be more.  
Ellie looked up at him from the desk that she had claimed for herself. They hadn’t seen or spoken  
to each other since they had agreed to take on the job.

He’d given Grieve his notice when he got in to work the next day. Hardy thought he saw him  
smile when he told him about the position. They shook hands on his last day.

Hardy stood behind the desk left for him, his hands resting on the back of the chair. Ellie was  
sitting at hers flipping through the pages of a catalogue.

“So far I’ve got: filing cabinet, white board, kettle, and a coffee maker, because I am not climbing  
up and down those stairs for that every time.” She paused and looked up at him. “Can you think  
of anything else we’ll need?”

He placed his hands on his hips and scanned the room. They were surrounded by beige and  
manilla boxes, but it seemed empty still. He sighed. It felt more like they were moving into a  
new house rather than starting a new job.

“Cork board?” he suggested.

“Right,” she said, shaking her head. _Of course._

“Maybe a couple,” he added. They had been helpful in the past.

She continued to scan the catalogue, marking down on a separate order form what they needed.  
Two more DCs came down with boxes.

“Oh, you’ve got to be...Is there even going to be enough room for us with all these bloody boxes?  
Did anything get solved around here?” Hardy asked.

Ellie rolled her eyes.

“They’re from the whole county, remember?” She didn’t add that these were just the files from  
Broadchurch.

Hardy sat down and turned his computer on. Ellie finished scribbling something on the form and  
then closed the catalogue.

“So,” she said.

He looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

“So?”

“So, where are we going to start?”

It was a good question.

“I guess we prioritize them somehow,” he said looking across at the growing heap of files. “Are  
there any you can think of?”

“By date is probably best. I think some of the boxes should be labelled.”

“No, I mean can you think of any cases?”

She looked at him bewildered.

“How the bloody hell would I know? D’you think I did this on my lunch breaks, come down and  
read old case files?”

“You’ve lived here longest. I just thought maybe there would’ve been something you’d  
remembered.”

He stared at the default wallpaper on his screen. It was a beach. He shifted his eyes back to the  
boxes.

“Oh…no,” she replied.

“Please tell me we at least have some digital record of them.”

“Oh, yes! We do. There’s a database.”

She fished in her pocket and pulled out a slip of paper and placed it on his desk.

“That’s the login information. There should be a shortcut on the desktop. It’ll look like a little  
magnifying glass.”

He squinted at the screen for a moment before pulling out his glasses.

“It’s right there,” she said pointing to the icon on his screen.

“I know,” he said waving her hand away.

“Alright, geez.”

The icon opened up the database webpage. His eyes moved quickly between the slip of paper  
and the computer as he logged in. He scrolled through the list of files. They didn’t look any less  
daunting in digital form.

“There’s a shit ton, but at least it will be easier to organize. Mind you, we’ll still have to find the  
corresponding box with the hard files,” she said.

She sat back at her desk and opened the database on her computer. It was less depressing in the  
basement than she thought it would be. It was quiet, which was nice. Except for when the DC  
with the shaggy blonde hair brought a box in. He would drop them on the floor without  
ceremony, like he was tossing a half eaten sandwich in the bin.

“Isn’t that what we have DCs for,” he said, still scrolling through the files.

Ellie smirked.

“Yeah, ‘suppose so.”

She had asked Jenkinson not to assign the pen-clicking DC to them. She’d probably ring his neck.

They silently and independently looked through the extensive collection of cases on their  
computers. Hardy clicked through a few of the files. He understood why many of them never got  
solved. Half of the time the detective work was shoddy, witnesses were limited or non-existent,  
same with any evidence.

“Oh!” Ellie exclaimed a bit too suddenly.

Hardy flinched.

“Bloody hell, Miller,” he said.

“Sorry, I just remembered something.”

She found the file she was looking for and opened it, angling her screen towards Hardy.

“I was quite young when it happened. I can’t believe I forgot about it.”

He examined the case description. September 22, 1984. A wooden crate was pulled in from the  
river containing the body of a newborn boy. Cause of death was asphyxiation. No leads.

“People called him the Moses Baby, you know, because of the whole box in the river thing.  
Neither of the parents came forward and there wasn’t much evidence to go on. My parents were  
freaking out a bit. Mum wanted to leave, but Dad, he was-”

She let her words trail off. She’d begun to ramble.

Hardy finished reading and straightened his posture.

“Quite young? In ‘84?”

“Oh, shut up.”

The slight smirk on his face faded.

“He wasn’t more than a week old,” he said.

“I know,” she said softly.

The weight of their history filled the room with silence. They were both thinking the same thing.  
They’d been through this before, twice. Was this going to be round three?

“Forensics are a hell of a lot better these days,” she said.

Hardy looked up at her. She’d changed since Sandbrook; her natural optimism was returning.

“Alright, Miller,” he agreed.

“Yeah?”

He nodded.

“See if you can find the box for it.”

She turned to him, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. He had habitually reverted to their DI and  
DS roles.

“Sorry,” he muttered to his shoes.

One of the DCs walked in, a new one this time, carrying two boxes stacked on top of one another  
rather ambitiously.

“Hey,” Hardy called to him just before he walked swiftly out the door.

“Sir?” he replied, turning on his heels to face them.

He was young and quite eager by the looks of it. His ginger hair was trimmed short; his smooth  
cheeks were covered in freckles.

Hardy scribbled the case information and number on a post-it note.

“Find this box, will you?” he said handing the note to the DC.

“Yes, sir,” he replied with a crooked yet endearing smile.

 

By the end of the day the floor of their office was littered with papers from the case file:  
statements, photographs, the limited number of report results. It was amazing how much police work had changed in the past thirty years.

Ellie was sitting cross legged on the floor reading over the documents and making a list of things  
to follow up on and re-examine. Her phone alarm beeped.

“I gotta go get Fred,” she said.

She stood up and stretched out her legs. They had cramped from sitting so long. Time had passed  
sooner than she thought. She looked over Hardy’s shoulder as she collected her belongings from  
her desk.

“Haven’t found a place yet?”

His screen was split. One half was case information and the other was rental listings.

“Not yet.”

“I’m sure something will turn up.”

He made a sort of clicking noise with his mouth. She stood there for a moment.

“Right. Well, see you tomorrow I guess.”

“Night, Miller.”

 

He left the station twenty minutes later, stopping by the shop on his way back to the hotel. He  
was out of shampoo and hated the stuff they had there, the smell of it mostly. It smelled like the  
brand Tess used to use. He’d hated it then, too.

“Didn’t expect to see you back in town,” a voice from behind him said.

It was Henry Callum, Hardy’s old landlord; a former resident of Broadchurch. He’d retired as a  
fisherman and moved up north but hadn’t given up his nautical apparel. Hardy had never seen  
him without his anchor pin proudly displayed on the left side of his chest, right over his heart.

“What brings you here?” he added.

“I’m back at the station.”

“I guess you’ve probably already found a place then.”

“I’m at the Trader’s for now. Still looking.”

“I don’t suppose you’d want my place back? I had a tenant supposed to be there for another  
month yet but he quit on me today. That’s why I’m in town, just picked up the keys.”

“Oh.”

“Sir,” the cashier said.

Hardy turned around to find no one in front of him in line.

“Sorry.”

“Do you still have my number,” Henry asked.

“I do, yeah.”

He rarely deleted contacts from his mobile.

“Think about it and give me a call.”

“Will do.”

Henry gave him a smile and a wink before heading out the door.

 

Back at his hotel room Hardy searched the rental listings one more time. Everything was either  
too expensive or completely impractical. A place with two bedrooms would be nice, or at least  
enough space for a sofa bed. He’d given up that search though and restricted it to one-bedrooms.  She probably wouldn’t visit him anyways.

His eyes had begun to fade from staring at the screen. All of the houses had begun to meld  
together and every description he read started to sound the same. He was glad he hadn’t bought a  
flat when he moved. He had to finish paying the months rent on his place, but it was better than  
having to sell, especially in this market.

His phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Alec, it’s Rob,” a cheery voice said on the other line.

“Hello, sir,” Hardy said.

“It’s after hours. None of that sir or Commissioner Athair talk.”

“Sorry, Rob.”

“How was the first day?”

He felt like he’d just gotten home from his first day of school.

“Good, good. We’re already looking into reopening a case.”

“I knew you’d be perfect for this job,” he said proudly.

“Listen, Rob,” Hardy started.

“You don’t have to say anything, Alec,” he replied, reading his mind.

Hardy paused.

“All the same, thank you. Really.”

“You deserve it. Grieve told me how miserable you were over there and this was perfect timing.”

Hardy leaned his face onto his hand. _God, was it really that obvious?_

“You’re a good detective, knew it the first day you came to the academy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He heard a throat clearing noise on the other end.

“Sorry. Rob.”

They’d kept in touch over the years. Hardy had used him as a reference a number of times. He  
was the only instructor at the academy that Hardy actually respected, looked up to even.

“Anyways, I just wanted to check in. I’ll let you get back to your evening.”

“Right. Thanks again.”

“Anytime, Alec.”

Hardy stared at his mobile for a moment after he hung up. He refreshed his browser to see if any  
new listings had come up. Nothing. He scanned down his contact list until he found what he was  
looking for.

It rang twice before they answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Henry. Your place still available?”


	5. Chapter 5

The Moses Case had been officially reopened. There wasn’t much evidence to go on, but with  
DNA testing they would have a much better chance of finding one or both of the parents, or the  
murderer. The child had been buried in an unmarked grave in the town over, thank goodness.  
They needed to exhume the body and the last thing this town needed was another white tent  
popping up. Approval came in, finally, and a team had gone out earlier that morning. Hardy and  
Ellie continued scrutinizing the facts they had while they waited to hear from the morgue with an  
initial report.

The basement was looking more like an office than a storage room now. The boxes had been  
properly labelled and organized, some still lined up against the shelves and others filed away with  
reference numbers. Their supplies had arrived too. Ellie had already filled one of the cork boards  
with maps of the river, surrounding areas, and notes about the weather and water conditions  
around the time the body was found. They had just about reached their limit in researching the  
case without DNA evidence. The crate the child was found in was brought to the station the day  
before from storage. SOCO was running tests on it now.

Hardy sat at his desk staring at the markings on the crate in the photographs. It looked like there  
was some sort of writing or logo on the side. He thought he could make out a “w” at the  
beginning, and either an “n” or an “m” at the end; he couldn’t be sure. Maybe it wasn’t a letter at  
all. He rubbed his eyes from underneath his glasses and let out an involuntary groan.

Ellie turned her head.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Fine,” she said, turning her attention back to the map.

“No, I mean, it’s _nothing_.”

He slapped the photo on his desk harder than he intended. He put his hand under the desk, out of  
sight, to shake off the pain.

She sighed. She’d made more progress than he had, marginally, but it still felt like they’d gotten  
nowhere all week.

Hardy looked into his empty mug that had held four cups of tea already that morning,  
contemplating a fifth. He was back in his former Broadchurch residence. Henry brought over the  
keys and agreement shortly after he called him. Some of the furniture had been shifted around,  
and it smelled faintly of tobacco and liquorice, but he was glad to be out of the Trader’s. His  
dreamless sleep still offered him no rest, no matter the hours he got. Maybe he should cut back on  
the caffeine.

“Trying to read your leaves?”

Hardy looked up from his mug, unfazed by her joke, to her smirking at him.

“Geez,” she said as her grin faded.

He cleared his throat.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s just-“

“I know.”

They’d both hit a wall. It felt too soon for that. They’d barely gotten started.

The sounds of Hardy’s phone vibrating against the desk interrupted their silence.

“DI Hardy,” he answered.

“Dr. Stephens. We’ll have some preliminary results for you shortly.”

“How shortly?”

“Within half an hour. Just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Great. Thanks.”

He hung up the phone. Ellie looked at him expectantly. Hardy had stepped out of the office  
twice that day to call and see if there was any news.

“We’ll have more information momentarily, Miller,” he said. “We can head down to the morgue  
soon.”

She nodded.

The familiar nerves had begun to churn in her stomach. Another body. Another child. A baby.

She turned back to her board and pretended to study the charts until it was time for them to leave.

 

Hardy insisted on driving to the morgue. Ellie was too distracted to protest. She could tell no one  
else had been in the passenger seat in a while; it was pushed just about as far forward as it would  
go.

“Oh,” he said as she tried to crawl in. “I had boxes in the back from moving so I-“

“S’alright.”

“I think there’s a-“

His hand waved vaguely in the direction under her seat. She leaned forward to reach underneath.

“It should be-“

“I got it,” she said.

The seat scooted back, too far at first, then forward just enough. He waited until she put her  
seatbelt on before putting the car in drive.

She gripped the sides of her seat, bracing herself for the worst, but it didn’t take long for her hands  
to relax and her arms to fold. He was barely driving the speed limit. She looked over at his hands  
on the wheel, placed firmly in the “correct” position; his eyes flicked between his rear mirrors  
regularly. He came to a full stop at the stop sign and looked both ways twice before proceeding.  
She had to turn away so he wouldn’t see her smile.

He was relieved when they got to the car park and there was a number of free spaces he could  
drive into with ease. He drove as carefully as he could to avoid unnecessary commentary on his  
driving abilities.

It was just as cold inside the morgue as it was outside, if not more so. The whitewashed corridor  
seemed endless. He scanned the numbers on the doors until they got to the one they were looking  
for.

Hardy’s hand paused on the handle before he opened the door. The metal felt like ice under his  
palm.

He looked at her.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly.

“‘Course,” she said, mildly insulted he’d asked but secretly grateful he did. It almost sounded like  
he was asking himself the question too.

He nodded slightly before turning the handle.

“Doctor-“ Hardy started. _Shit. What was his name again?_

“Ah, yes, hello DI Hardy. DI Miller,” Dr. Stephens said.

He was a stout man with enough of a beard to make up for the lack of hair on his head. Small,  
round spectacles sat halfway down his nose as he consulted his clipboard.

“I’ll have a full report for you within the next few days, but from what I can tell cause of death  
was indeed asphyxiation.”

“From being in the crate?” Hardy asked quickly.

Dr. Stephens looked up at him slowly.

“No. I was just about to say that it wasn’t from that. A number of the ribs appear to be broken,  
which likely caused the asphyxiation.”

Ellie looked up and realized that Dr. Stephens had been standing in front of the table where the  
child lay, blocking it from view.

“It wouldn’t have taken anything too heavy though,” he added solemnly.

Her eyes returned quickly returned to the floor.

“We’ll need DNA testing done. Any particulates you find have them sent to SOCO,” Hardy said.

“And keep us updated. I don’t care if it’s small or inconclusive.”

The doctor nodded. He turned to Ellie to see if she had any orders for him. She just nodded in  
agreement to what had been said, barely making eye contact with either of them.

“Thanks, Doctor,” Hardy said as he opened the door, letting Ellie go out first.

She walked quickly ahead of him back down the corridor. He heard a sniffle echo in the halls.

 

The drive back to the station felt longer than the way there. Hardy was driving even slower, even  
more cautiously (if that were possible). They sat silently until Ellie’s phone rang.

“What now?” she muttered as she pulled it out of her pocket.

She turned the display away from Hardy so he couldn’t see the caller ID.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Ellie, hi,” Paul replied. “We found him.”

Her stomach turned and the lump that had already begun to form in her chest grew.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

He could hear her shaky breathing.

“Yes,” she said with as much certainty as she could muster.

“Can you write it down now?”

“Um, no, not really.”

“I can text it to you. That is, if you still want it.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks.”

She hung up and turned her phone on silent before putting it back in her pocket. Hardy took a  
break from religiously checking his mirrors to turn his eyes to her. She deliberately avoided him  
and turned her head farther away from him, pretending to gaze out the window.

“Everything alright?”

She was bloody well sick of that question.

“Yes,” she snapped.

“Okay. Just asking, Miller.”

He shook his head and turned his full attention back to the road. He broke the speed limit this  
time.

 

There was no update on the crate when they got back to the station, but Brian called with some  
information about the clothes the boy was found in: a pale blue nightgown with delicate white trim  
on the edges.

“There were some traces of blood on it,” Brian said to Hardy over the phone. “We’re trying to get  
tests done but there’s not much to go on. It looks like someone tried to wash it off before putting  
him in the river.”

“From the child, do you think?”

“It’s hard to say, but probably not seeing as there were no cuts on him. A bit odd though. It’s not  
as if he could have attacked his assailant.”

Silence.

“Right, well. I’ll let you know if we find anything else.”

“Good,” Hardy said before hanging up. “That was Dirty Brian. They found blood on his clothes;  
they’re running tests.”

Ellie couldn’t help but smile. No one else called him Dirty Brian. She’d almost forgotten about  
that nickname.

* * *

 

She was ready to go to bed herself after Tom and Fred were asleep, but instead she sat on top of  
her covers in her pyjamas staring at an unsealed manilla envelope. Her phone sat on the bed next  
to it. There was still one unread text message from earlier that day, from Paul.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling completely before opening her eyes. Her  
fingers reached inside the envelope and pulled out the three identical stacks of papers. They’d  
been hidden away for almost two months. But now she had the last piece she needed. It was all  
becoming real.

“Just like a band-aid,” she whispered to herself before picking up her phone and reading the text  
message.

She quickly scribbled the address in the correct blank space left on the top page of each of the  
piles of paper. She tried to copy the numbers and letters as if they were shapes without meaning  
instead of reading the words.

Two of the stacks went back inside the envelope. The third she put face down in the bottom  
drawer of her bedside table.

 

Ellie dropped the envelope in the mail on her way to work the next morning. This was only the  
beginning, but she felt she’d crossed a hurdle. And it felt good. She was relieved.

Her demeanour didn’t go unnoticed when she walked into the office. Hardy gave her a curious  
look but decided not to ask. She didn’t bring it up until lunch. He offered to get take away for  
them.

“I suppose I should probably tell you,” she said as he put the bag of food on her desk.

“Tell me what?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves.

He pulled the box with his lunch out from the bag. A roast beef sandwich. He didn’t want  
anymore shit about the BLT.

He looked at it skeptically before deciding to take a bite.

“I’ve filed for divorce.”

Hardy paused, sandwich in one hand, halfway to his mouth which gaped open.

“Oh.”

He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. She could hardly stay married to the man.

“I would have done it sooner, but on the divorce forms you need their address, and we had no  
bloody idea where he was, which I guess was sort of the point.”

Hardy looked at her, still confused.

“Anyways, yesterday in the car when I got that phone call, it was Paul. He’d found out where Joe  
was staying. I dropped the papers in the mail this morning.”

She took a few chips out of the bag and stuffed them in her mouth.

“Um, Hardy?” she said pointing to the stream of liquid that had dripped from his sandwich down  
his forearm.

“Oh, shit.”

She handed him a napkin.

“How did he figure it out? Where Joe was?”

She forgot he didn’t know about what had gone down with them all after the trial ended.

“He sent him off to a friend of his, far away from here. By the time I’d asked him for an address,

Paul told me his friend said Joe had moved on and he didn’t know where he was. He found him  
now though.”

He put his sandwich down without taking a bite and wiped off the rest of his arm.

“Do you think…” Hardy started.

“What?”

“Just.” He hesitated. “Do you think he’ll go along with it though? Agree to the divorce?”

“He knows bloody well there’s not a chance in hell we’re staying married,” she snorted.

“Yeah, I know that, but what reasons did you put down for wanting the divorce?”

She made a face at him.

“What do you mean ‘what reasons’? I have plenty of reasons.”

“Ok, but-“

“Fuck,” she grumbled.

“Were any of those reasons to do with the trial?”

She stopped.

“Well?”

“Well, yeah, of course.”

He let out a long sigh.

“What?”

He looked at her with his softened eyes.

_Fuck._

“Just tell me already, will you?”

“As far as the law’s concerned, he’s innocent. Being on trial isn’t a crime.”

Her heart sank further into her stomach.

“But what about that testimony from the paramedic-“

“It’s her testimony against his. If he agrees to the divorce, it means he’s admitting to all of the claims you made against him.”

They both knew that wouldn’t happen, not after everything he’d done to avoid going to prison.

She felt the rage and hatred brewing inside her. The betrayal. The lump in her chest returned and  
began to rise into her throat.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She nodded.

“Well that’s done,” she said opening up the rest of her lunch.

She’d got a burger today. She should’ve gone with fish n chips.

“How much do I owe you?”

He shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it, Miller.”

They finished their lunch in silence.


	6. Chapter 6

They had gotten take out almost every other day, usually the days Ellie forgot her lunch at home  
or didn’t have time to make one. Hardy often didn’t eat anything on the other days, but when he  
did it was always the same thing: penne pasta with butter and pepper. Sometimes he would add  
pre-shredded cheese.

Today was one of those days. He sat at his desk picking up two pieces of pasta at a time with his  
fork, making sure there was cheese on each bite.

“Preparing for a marathon?” she asked.

She had taken notice of his eating habits. He looked up at her, confused and mouth full.

“Carbo loading?”

Still confused.

“The pasta.”

“Oh,” he said when he was almost finished chewing.

She waited for an answer. He shrugged and went back to eating.

He probably didn’t know how to make anything else. Except salad. No wonder he was so  
skinny. He likely hadn’t had a proper cooked meal in ages.

She almost offered him the other half of her tuna salad sandwich, but she saw him crinkle his nose  
when she pulled it out of her lunch bag.

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked.

His confused expression reappeared.

“You could come over for dinner if you’re not doing anything,” she said casually.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Well you clearly eat like shit. Just figured you could use a proper meal is all.”

He looked down at his lunch. It did look rather pathetic.

“Sure, Miller.”

“Right, then. 6:30 alright?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

[do u eat beef?]

She had planned on picking up a roast to cook for dinner, but she forgot how particular he was  
with food until she was standing in the meat section. Her phone dinged.

[what kind of beef?]

She rolled her eyes.

[the kind from a cow]

[would you eat a roast] she added.

He took longer to respond this time.

[sure.]

“Well that’s convincing,” she muttered.

[no need to bring anything]

He brought half the shop last time.

[k.]

She picked up a baguette as well; there were veggies at home she could use. Tom could get those  
started already. She scrolled down to her messages with him.

[can u start washing and peeling the carrots and potatoes?]

As soon as she hit send she remembered what day it was.

“Shit.”

A woman walking by with her six year-old daughter gave her a dirty look.

“Sorry.”

Tom was going to a friend’s after school and then football afterwards. He wouldn’t be home until  
after 8.

[nevermind]

* * *

 

He pulled up to her house. It looked the same as he remembered it, which felt weird for some  
reason. Part of him expected it to be different. He was ten minutes early. Originally he was going  
to wait until 6:30 to knock on the door, but his impatience got the better of him. He waited five.

The doorbell rang. He thought he heard a pot lid clank from inside.

“Just a second,” Ellie called.

She opened the door, trying not to look completely flustered.

“Come in.”

On the inside it was a completely different house. The yellow walls had been replaced with a  
light olive colour; the living room was now blue.

She stood at the door long enough to notice he was still wearing a suit (but no tie) before turning  
back to the kitchen. He followed, but stayed partway in the hall, leaning against the door frame.

Half of the counter was full of the dirty dishes Tom usually did when he was home; next to it was  
a cutting board piled with bits of vegetable peels. Ellie grabbed a pot holder from the drawer and  
slid the roasting pan out of the oven. She took the lid off and wiped the steam from the dial on the  
meat thermometer sticking out of the roast. She groaned.

“Dinner might be a bit later than I thought,” she said.

“Can I help with anything?”

She almost laughed. Hardy cooking.

“It’s alright,” she said, trying to put the lid back on the pan.

It almost slipped out of her grasp but she caught it with her unprotected hand.

“Shit!”

She put the burned part of her hand in her mouth. Hardy went and turned the tap on as cold as it  
would go.

“Put your hand under it,” he said.

“It’s fine,” she said.

“Miller.”

She rolled her eyes and put her hand under the running water.

He scanned the kitchen. It had been painted too. Yellow. A different yellow than the rest of the  
house had been before though. It wasn’t as vibrant, but it was nice.

“It’s a mess, I know.”

He looked at the counter and shook his head less than convincingly.

“Oh shut up,” she mumbled.

She turned the tap off, shook her hand, and wiped it on the side of her pants.

“It’s fine, Miller.”

She checked on the roast again, this time with a pot holder in each hand. Still not quite done. It  
should be edible soon enough. _Hope he doesn’t mind it rare._

She closed the oven, sighed, and reached for the bottle of wine on the counter. It had already  
been opened.

“D’you want some?”

“Already?”

“It’s after six.”

“Before dinner though?”

“Well you don’t have to, geez.”

“Sure.”

“‘Sure’ you’ll have some?”

“Yeah.”

She grabbed another wine glass from the cupboard.

“Was that so hard?”

He looked up at her as she handed him his glass.

They stood silently for a moment. Ellie took a sip from the half full glass on the counter that she  
had poured herself earlier. Hardy took a gulp. He had been expecting a not-so-quiet dinner for  
four.

“Where’s Fred?”

“Sleeping. He’s got a cold, poor thing. Passed out half an hour before you got here.”

He had fussed since she picked him up from child care after work.

Hardy crinkled his nose.

“What?” she asked.

She sniffed. It smelled like something was burning.

As if on cue, Fred began to cry from upstairs.

Smoke started seeping out of the oven.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Ellie said as she went to grab the pot holders; only one of them was  
sitting on the counter.

“Here, Miller, let me help,” he said, taking a step towards the oven.

“Alright, will you go check on Fred?”

He paused. Not exactly what he was expecting.

“He probably just lost his lamb,” she added.

Ellie opened the window before the oven, hoping to disperse the smoke out before it could set the  
detector off.

Hardy turned around and followed the sound of Fred’s wails. He was in his room, sitting up in  
his crib, one nostril covered with dried snot while a steady stream came from the other. Fred  
stopped his crying when Hardy entered and gave him a puzzling look before crying once more.  He still looked half asleep.

Hardy looked around the room for something to calm him. There was a well loved toy lamb in  
the corner of the crib. He grabbed it and held it in front of Fred.

Nothing.

He waved it around a bit, as if it would help. Fred paused, looking at the lamb and then back up  
at Hardy. He resumed crying.

“Alright,” Hardy said.

He put the toy down and picked Fred up, resting him on his hip and bouncing slightly. It had  
been a while, but his instincts came back to him.

“Shhhh.”

Fred’s crying softened to faint whimpers; his fist gripped Hardy’s lapel.

“That’s it,” he whispered.

All crying stopped.

Fred buried his face drowsily in Hardy’s shoulder. Gently, he placed him back in his crib, tucking  
his lamb in his arm. He picked up the crumpled blanket and lay it overtop of him. He walked  
carefully out of the room, softly closing the door part-way behind him.

He returned to the kitchen to find the smell of smoke lingering with the additional chill from the  
open window. Ellie was slicing the roast.

On the counter next to the dirty dishes he saw what the real cause of the smoke was: a burnt pot  
holder. She must’ve left it in the oven.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, he’s sleeping.”

“Look at you. DI Hardy: full-time man of the law, part time baby whisperer.”

She saw his eyes move to the blackened pot holder and back to her.

“Don’t even start,” she threatened.

Her eyes fell on his shoulder.

“What?” he said.

“You’ve got snot on you,” she said, tossing him a damp cloth.

She smirked, inferring how it had ended up on his suit. That would’ve been a sight to see.

 

The roast actually turned out better than she had expected. Another surprise of the night was that  
Hardy liked carrots. He scooped as many as he could on the serving spoon and onto his plate. He  
didn’t eat the few bits of onion that accompanied them though.

Ellie packed up the leftovers in the kitchen, setting a plate aside for Tom when he got home. She  
had made more food than she thought.

Hardy stood up and collected the dirty plates and cutlery from the table and brought them in to the  
kitchen.

“Oi, you don’t have to do that,” she said.

He gave her a passing glance and kept walking towards the dishwasher.

“Thanks,” she added sincerely.

She finished packing away the food. The bottle of wine was sitting on the counter with maybe a  
glass and a half left in it. She divided the remainder between their glasses.

Hardy loaded up the remaining dishes and stared at the buttons.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll start it later,” she said.

He noticed that his wine glass was no longer empty. He took a swig and leaned against the  
counter.

“Thanks for tonight, Miller.”

“No problem,” she chuckled softly, thinking about the earlier disasters.

He joined her.

“Well, the house is still standing,” he said.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

They each drained the contents of their glasses.

“Hardy?” she said after a silence.

“Yeah?”

“What am I going to do about Joe?”

He was almost certain Joe wouldn’t agree to her terms.

“You’ve done this before. Well, not quite like this, but you know,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, folding his arms. “Best case scenario, he agrees and you can go about the  
divorce.”

She scoffed.

“If he doesn’t…”

He hesitated.

“If he doesn’t, the court might call you to a hearing.”

The look on her face suggested she didn’t fully grasp what he meant.

“Both of you,” he added.

“Fuck.”

He tried to think of something to say, anything, that could make it better, but he knew there was  
nothing that could be said.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to wait and see then,” she said with forced optimism. “Maybe do a bit  
more research on this whole thing.”

“If I can-”

“I know. Thanks.”

He nodded.

“Was it this hard for you?” she asked.

He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

“Sorry, that was a stupid question.”

“No, it…”

He inhaled loudly through his nose.

“Yes and no,” he answered.

She nodded.

He stared at the bottom of his glass wishing there was just one more sip left.

“You’ll get through this, Miller.”

“I hope so,” she said doubtfully.

“You will.”

She looked up at him with a faint smile, which he returned.

They heard the front door open and the sound of a bag dropping and shoes being kicked off.  Moments later Tom walked into the kitchen, a bit surprised at the sight of Hardy.

“Hello, Tom,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Hello, sweetheart. How was practice?”

“It was alright. Marcus twisted his ankle though. He might not be in next week’s game.”

“You be careful.”

“Always am, Mom,” he grinned.

“Good. There’s food in the fridge for you.”

Tom pulled the overflowing plate out of the fridge and popped it in the microwave.

Hardy put his glass on the counter.

“I should get going,” he said.

“Oh, ok,” she said. “Do you want to take any food home with you?”

He shook his head.

She walked with him to the door.

He made that clicking noise with his mouth before opening it.

“Well, thanks for dinner, Miller.”

“‘Course.”

She was smiling but he could see the worry lingering behind her eyes from their earlier  
conversation.

“See you tomorrow,” he said softly.

“See you.”


	7. Chapter 7

Each of their mobiles sat on their desks. They were expecting results from the testing done on the  
blood from the child’s nightgown this afternoon (they hoped). It was barely noon, but every few  
seconds their eyes would move from their computers to their mobiles.

The freckle-faced ginger DC entered the office with a portable heater under each arm. The heater  
in the basement of all places decided to break down just as the real winter weather hit leaving their  
office feeling more like a morgue. He plugged in one at each of their desks.

“Thanks, Wally,” Ellie said, still glancing at her phone.

“Not a problem, DI Miller,” he said with his crooked smile.

Ellie’s eyes shifted over to Hardy. He felt her glare on him.

“Thanks, Wallace,” he mumbled.

“No trouble at all, sir.”

Nearly everyone called DC Dean Wallace “Wally”. Everyone but Hardy that is. Even the  
Superintendent called him that sometimes, just not to his face.

“Is there anything else I can help with?”

He asked that at least five times a day, and he meant anything. There wasn’t much to give him at  
this point. Sometimes the odd task of looking something up for them, but mostly it was just  
getting them tea. He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest though.

“I think we’re alright for now,” she said.

He nodded and turned around to leave, but his eyes were drawn to the cork board next to the  
door. It had maps and charts of the river where the baby was found, a few pins, and scribbled  
notes. Ellie had tried to make sense of it but gave up. It didn’t seem to be very helpful at any rate.  
Wally rested his hands on his hips and rocked back and forth on his heels as he examined the  
board.

Hardy noticed and tapped Ellie’s arm with the end of his pen. They both watched him staring at  
the board for a bit.

“Anything interesting?” Hardy inquired.

Wally spun around. His face looked like he had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar  
before dinner.

“Oh, I was just-”

“It’s alright,” Ellie said. “I couldn’t make heads or tails of it myself.”

Wally was still swaying. His hands found their way into his pockets.

“My father was a limnologist,” he said.

His statement was met with blank expressions from the DIs.

“Someone who studies rivers, lakes, that sort of thing. Inland waters. I’m not an expert myself  
but he taught me some things. Took a few classes at school.”

He stood there waiting for one of them to say something.

“Right then,” he nodded before turning to leave.

“Wallace,” Hardy called.

He turned around. Hardy was looking down at some pages on his desk.

“Grab a chair. You can clean off that table.”

Wally grinned as wide as his face would allow, but quickly tempered his excitement.

“Yes, sir,” he said in his most professional voice.

Ellie and Hardy shared a smirk as Wally lifted the cork board from the wall and wheeled an extra  
chair over to the table in the corner.

A phone rang. It was Ellie’s.

“DI Miller,” she answered.

“Ellie, we got the test results back. It turns out there were two sets of blood on the nightgown.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. One of them could be one of the child’s parents but not the other; it’s AB and the child is  
O. We did get a hit in the system though on it, or him rather. Name’s Joshua Cain.”

“Any priors?”

“Stole a farmer’s tractor and took it for a bit of a joy ride, but that’s all.”

“Do we have his last known address?” Ellie asked, grabbing a pen and paper.

“Yes, but I’m afraid it might not be very helpful. He died a while back. Liver cancer.”

_Bullocks._

“Alright,” she sighed. “Thanks.”

Hardy looked at her expectantly.

“There were two sets of blood; one could be the child’s parent, the other belonged to a man  
named Joshua Cain, but he’s dead. Cancer.”

Hardy let out a gravelly breath and rubbed his eyes from underneath his glasses.

“Did he have a wife, children, any next of kin we could look into?”

Wally’s head perked up and he turned around to face them from his newly manufactured desk.  
Hardy’s eyes turned up to him, eyebrows raised.

“Think you can handle that there, Wallace?”

“Right away, sir,” he replied before practically leaping out the door and up the stairs to the main  
office.

“He’s like a puppy, that one,” Ellie said when she was sure he was out of earshot.

“As long as he doesn’t piss on the floor,” Hardy muttered casually under his breath.

Ellie caught it and snorted. She took two containers out of her bag and popped them in the  
microwave.

“He favours you,” she said.

“What?”

He finally looked up from his work.

“It’s true, he does,” she continued. “He lit up like a Christmas tree when you asked him to look  
into Cain.”

Hardy shrugged. He hadn’t noticed.

Ellie waited by the microwave until it beeped. She took the two containers out, using the edge of  
her sleeve. She’d learned her lesson the night before. She placed one of them on Hardy’s desk  
with a fork and knife. It was leftover roast beef from the night before and a small mound of  
carrots. She’d left in a bit of onion.

“What happens if we can’t solve this?” she asked after a moment. “You’d think the past thirty  
years of technology would’ve gotten us a bit farther.”

“We will,” he said, cutting up his food.

“You don’t know that.”

“We always do.”

Technically he was right. But this case was different. It had been closed once before; she  
couldn’t bear to do that again.

She watched his face scrunch up as he picked up the bit of onion on his fork and moved it to an  
empty spot in the container, far away from the carrots. She put her hand in front of her mouth to  
suppress a laugh that was threatening to escape.

They heard someone hurry down the stairs and moments later Wally whipped back into the office  
and made a beeline to the desk where he was at earlier.

The rest of their lunch was eaten in silence until it was disrupted by an exclamation from Wally.

“I knew it!”

His back was facing them but you could see one of his hands reach up and cover his mouth. He  
turned around, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

His ears were almost as red as his hair.

They looked at him expectantly.

“What is it?” Ellie finally asked.

“Oh, right.”

He walked over to their desks, piece of paper in hand.

“Joshua Cain has no next of kin. He was an only child and both his parents are dead, but he lived  
in West Milton.”

He directed the last part of his statement to Ellie, as if it would have a special meaning to her.

“Okay?” she said.

“It’s just north of here, near the river. I’m fairly certain it was near where the crate was dumped in  
the river.”

“How certain,” Hardy asked.

Wally’s eyes turned up as he did the calculations in his head.

“73%.”

Hardy smiled slightly.

“Well done,” he nodded.

 

West Milton was less than a twenty minute drive from Broadchurch, but it still felt foreign to Ellie  
and even more so to Hardy, although in his mind it was just another small town with its own  
secrets. Their first and possibly only stop was the farm Cain had stolen the tractor from. It was  
over thirty years ago, a long shot at best, but it was all they had really.

Ellie turned down an uneven road. The left side of the road was lined with rows of apple trees  
leading up to the barn that was visible in the distance. As they got closer, a quaint yellow house  
with a white wraparound porch came into view next to the barn which had a large “West Milton  
Cider Co.” logo printed on the side. She parked on the side of the road.

They walked up to the door, the old steps creaking under their feet.

Hardy knocked loudly.

The door opened, revealing an older man in stereotypical farmer attire. His shoulders slumped  
slightly as if he were being pulled down by the straps on his overalls, and his red and green plaid  
shirt looked a size too big.

“Detective Inspector Hardy,” he said flashing his badge. “This is Detective Inspector Miller. We  
were hoping we could ask you a few questions.”

“‘Suppose so, sure,” he said, clearly confused at their presence. “June, put the kettle on,” he  
called over his shoulder.

They sat in the living room, each with their own unique mug. Ellie’s had a smiling sunflower.

Hardy’s had a litter of kittens. The house smelled of flowers and warm sugar.

“Do you remember a man by the name of Joshua Cain, Mr. Creek?” Hardy asked.

He nodded his head.

“Sure do. Nothing but trouble, that man. Even when he was a boy,” he sighed. “And you can  
call me Jake, please.”

“There was an incident with your tractor a number of years ago, correct?”

“Is that what you’re here about? That was decades ago. But yes, he nicked it and went  
rampaging through the orchards for a bit of fun. It wasn’t as amusing for me.”

“How well did you know him?” Ellie asked.

“I knew more of him than I knew him personally. He was mixed up in that colony in those days.  
After that ended he moved closer to town and drank himself to death. Can’t say I blame him  
though.”

“Colony?” Hardy asked.

“Or cult, whatever you want to call it. They were strange folk and kept to themselves mostly.  They lived in communities on the edge of town and had some sort of grudge against society.  About twenty or so years ago it fell apart.”

“What happened?”

“Not sure exactly. No one is. A number of them moved into town and tried to get jobs and  
integrate like normal. They’d never talk about it though. Most people didn’t even dare ask. It  
was all a funny business,” he said shaking his head. “I wish I could tell you more.”

“S’alright,” Ellie said.

“Could you tell us any more about Joshua Cain? Anything at all,” Hardy said.

“He lived alone, kept to himself mostly. He did odd jobs for people in town, handiwork and such,  
despite having a limp.”

Ellie was jotting everything down in her notepad.

“Oh, and I remember seeing him wearing a wedding ring when he first moved into town. He  
didn’t wear it long though, and I never saw him with a woman.”

He paused for a moment, trying to remember anything else.

“That’s all I can think of,” Jake said.

“Thanks,” Hardy said as he stood up.

Jake and Ellie followed suit.

“Sorry I couldn’t have been more helpful,” he said.

“Is there anyone else here who might know more?” Hardy asked, opening the door.

Jake shook his head.

“I’ve lived here my whole life. I know this town and its goings on like the back of my hand.”

Hardy nodded.

“Thanks for your help,” Ellie smiled. “If you think of anything else, give us a ring,” she said  
handing him a card.

“Hey!”

A man with a walker was calling to them from the road in front of the house. He must’ve been at  
least fifty, but certainly too young to be as hunched over as he was.

“Have you seen my sunshine?” he asked.

“Just ignore him,” Jake said. “That’s Tony. He’s not quite right. Hasn’t been the same since he  
came back. He asks nearly everyone he sees where his ‘sunshine’ is.”

“Like the song?” Ellie asked, still looking at Tony.

He waited for an answer from them, but quickly gave up and kept shuffling down the road  
towards the town centre.

“No one knows. He’s well enough to care for himself, but no one can make heads or tails of what  
he means by it.”

Hardy nodded goodbye to Jake and he and Ellie walked to her car. They drove past Tony; he  
hadn’t even made it halfway down the road. Ellie watched him in her rear view mirror until he  
was out of sight.


	8. Chapter 8

“Guess that was a bit of a bust,” Ellie said as she turned onto the one way road.

Hardy sat silently in the passenger seat chewing at the inside corner of his bottom lip.

Ellie noticed.

“What? What is it?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Something was tugging at his brain and he couldn’t figure out what it was. Was it Jake? Was it  
something about the house? Was it that odd bloke they ran into outside Jake’s house? He  
continued to stare out the window going over the day’s events carefully in his mind hoping  
something would click. They passed by a familiar road sign.

“Weren’t you supposed to turn there?”

“What? Oh, shit.”

She started to brake, but they were too far past the exit and there was a car not far behind them.  
Her hand reached over to the GPS, but Hardy beat her to it. She quickly withdrew.

“I got it,” he said.

It led them through the centre of town before connecting them back on their way. The streets  
were eerily familiar and simultaneously alien. It had all the same small town staples as  
Broadchurch, the same independently owned shops, quaint houses, and preference for stop signs  
over street lights. It was maybe a bit more rural, but that was one of the only differences. As they  
drove further into town Ellie couldn’t help but wonder what secrets it concealed. She felt the  
worry showing on her face. Hardy turned to look at her, but she took the opportunity to check her side mirror and collect herself.

 

Wally was waiting for them eagerly when they got back to the station. He had been busy during  
the short time they were gone. The office had been cleaned up a good deal; the dirty mugs had  
been washed and the papers and folders that had littered almost every surface had been arranged  
in neat piles or returned to their proper place. He looked at them expectantly when they walked  
in, hoping he wouldn’t have to ask for a report on what they had found out in West Milton.

“Didn’t learn a lot I’m afraid,” she said as she walked over to her desk. “Just that Cain was in  
some sort of secluded cult near there for a while that no one seems to know much about.”

“He was a part of that?” Wally asked.

Hardy looked up at him from his desk.

“What, you know about it?”

“Well, I mean, I know of it,” he said sheepishly. “I grew up in the town over. It didn’t exist  
anymore by the time I was born, but my father would talk about it sometimes. He called it the  
Colony. Him and his friends would make a game out of seeing how close they could get to them.  
Not many dared get too close because of the rumours. People said they shot trespassers, or that  
once you entered their land you weren’t allowed to leave and they’d brainwash you to become  
one of them.”

Ellie was looking at him, mildly entertained and a bit shocked. Hardy had his trademark  
expression of disgust mixed with confusion.

“Anyways,” Wally continued, his eyes returning to his feet. “Based on the glimpses of the  
Colony that they got, they figured it was its own sort of religion or belief system or whatever you  
want to call it. Bit like the Amish, no technology or anything, and they dressed all old-fashioned.”

They remained silent, waiting for him to say more on the subject. Wally looked at them and gave  
an awkward smile.

“That’s it,” he said.

“D’you think we could talk to your father?” Hardy asked.

“No, sir,” he replied quietly.

Hardy raised an eyebrow.

“He died. Four years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Ellie said.

“S’all right,” he said with a forced smile.

“What about his friends,” Hardy inquired delicately.

It wasn’t the most appropriate question, but they needed to know.

Wally shook his head.

“He only had the few, and they all left as soon as they could. A small town like that, you spend  
too long in it and you end up stuck.”

Hardy let out a deep sigh, trying to figure out where they went from here.

“All we’ve got right now is Cain,” he said, folding his arms across his desk.

He turned to Wally.

“See if you can find anything else on him, or anything on anyone in that area with the same last  
name. He might’ve been married at some point, so check those records. Be thorough.”

Wally nodded and turned to leave.

“And see if someone can bring another computer down here,” Hardy added.

“Yes sir.”

Hardy could only see the back of his head, but he could hear the smile on his face.

Ellie’s phone rang.

Hardy looked up at her. She was staring at her phone, not answering it.

“What is it?”

“Tom’s school.”

She let it ring once more before answering.

“Hello?”

He watched as her expression changed from worry to shock. Her mouth hung open trying to find  
the right words to respond to whatever she had just been told.

“Yes, of course. I’m on my way.”

She hung up the phone and grabbed her coat.

“Miller-”

“Sorry, I have to go get Tom.”

“Is everything-”

“Fine.”

“Okay. If there’s anything-”

“I’ll see you later,” she said as she was halfway out the door.

“Miller, you forgot-”

She turned on her heels and marched back in to grab her purse off her desk.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

He nodded and sighed.

* * *

Tom was sitting in the front office waiting for her when she arrived. He looked up at her when she walked in but quickly turned his head down. He’d seen that look in her eyes before. It wasn’t pleasant.

The headmaster came out of his office. Ellie attempted to hide her anger but the expression he met  
her with showed it was in vain.

“He’s suspended for the rest of the day and has been assigned clean-up duty during lunch hour for  
the next week,” he told her softly. “We don’t tolerate violence at our school.”

_I don’t fucking tolerate it either._

She bit her tongue and nodded.

He looked at Tom and let out a deep sigh.

“I hope this won’t happen again.”

“No, sir,” Tom mumbled to his feet.

“Good.”

 

The silence on the drive home was maddening. Tom almost wished she would just yell at him  
and get it over with. The anticipation was worse than her wrath.

When they pulled into the driveway he broke the silence.

“I’m sorry, mum.”

Her knuckles were white from gripping the wheel. She got out of the car, slamming the door  
harder than she intended. The keys slipped out of her hand and clattered on the pavement.

“Shit.”

She usually watched her language around Tom but she couldn’t be arsed right now. “Oops”  
wasn’t going to cut it, not today.

As soon as Tom closed the front door behind him she turned around to face him. He jumped.

“You are not leaving this house except for school, do you hear me?”

He nodded.

“No friends, no skateboarding, no football-”

“But they need me-”

“I don’t care. You should have thought of that before you hit that boy today.”

His face trembled, trying with all his might to hold back the tears that had begun to form.

“You are not going anywhere without my express permission,” she continued.

He hung his head. She thought she saw a drop fall.

“Now go to your room.”

He brushed past her and up the stairs. She waited until she heard his door close before dropping  
her purse and leaning against the wall. She slumped down to the ground and let the tears slip past  
her closed eyes.

 

Fred was the most talkative person at the dinner table that evening. Tom said he wasn’t hungry  
but Ellie made him come to the table anyways. He picked at a piece of chicken and a spoonful of  
mashed potatoes before excusing himself and returning to his bedroom.

She didn’t eat much either.

She knocked on Tom’s door as she was going to put Fred to bed.

“Dishes still need to be done,” she said through the door.

A few seconds later Tom opened the door, completely ignoring her presence, and walked past her  
down the stairs.

Fred was being particularly difficult, refusing to let her wipe his nose while simultaneously fussing  
over the fact that his nose was snotty. She managed to finally calm him enough to get him down  
and hoped he would sleep through the night.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket just a she was closing his door.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

It was Hardy.

“What’s up?” she asked.

He didn’t call her after hours. Something important must have come up with the case. Whatever  
it was, it could wait until the morning. She didn’t want to deal with that now on top of everything  
else.

“I just-”

He paused.

“I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

Silence.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, yeah, everything’s fine,” she lied.

“Miller-”

“Alright, it’s not.”

 

She went down to the kitchen where Tom was loading the dishwasher.

“I’m popping out for a bit. I won’t be long.”

He nodded, but he didn’t look at her.

“I expect that to be done by the time I get back, yeah?”

He nodded again.

* * *

Hardy was sitting on the bench at the pier when she got there, two styrofoam cups of tea in his  
hands. He handed her one as she sat down next to him. He remained silent, waiting for her to  
speak, if she wanted.

Ellie could feel the emotions she’d been suppressing all evening brimming up inside of her.

“Tom got in a fight at school. Well, not really a fight. It’s only a fight if the other person hits  
back, isn’t it.”

Hardy waited to see if she had anything more to say before breaking the silence.

“He’s a teenager, Miller. He’s a good kid. Sometimes these things happen.”

The wind in her face wasn’t helping hold back the water forming in her eyes.

“He’s not like that, I know he’s not,” she said, trying to convince herself it was true.

There it was. Her real fear.

It hung in the air between them as the sound of the waves crashed rhythmically against the shore.

“I haven’t been able to get Susan Wright’s words out of my head,” she said.

Her lip had begun to tremble.

“When I was interrogating her about Nige,” she continued shakily. “I asked why she was telling  
us she saw him. You know what she said?”

Hardy shook his head.

“She said, ‘because if he’s his father’s son, who knows what he’s capable of’.”

“El-”

“What if he is like Joe? What if that’s just how he is and there’s nothing I can do about it?”

The tears were falling freely now, and she made no attempt to stop them. She leaned forward,  
burying her face in her hands. A hand rested gently on her back as she continued to sob.

She pulled a tissue out of the pocket of her orange coat, wiped her eyes, and took a deep breath.

Hardy returned his hand to his lap.

“Tom’s not like Joe,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s like you. He’s young, and he’s going through a lot, but he’s got a good heart.”

He turned to look at Ellie. She still hung her head, staring at the ground.

“And come on, Miller, don’t tell me you never clocked someone at school.”

She laughed.

“Did you tell him about the divorce,” Hardy asked after a moment.

“Yeah,” she said. “Not until I actually sent the papers though.”

She groaned.

“No news then?”

She shook her head.

“I’m not sure if that’s good or bad news.”

They sat there, drinking their tea. The wind blew the clouds away from the rising moon. It was  
full. She should’ve known.

“I should get back,” she said.

“Right.”

“Thanks,” she said.

She was motioning to the tea, but her tone suggested she was thankful for more.

He nodded.

She got up and turned to walk back to her car.

“Miller,” he called.

She turned around. He didn’t have to say it.

“I know,” she smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

Tuesday nights he would call Daisy. She was usually busy on weekends, and it was early enough  
in the week that she wouldn’t be bogged down with school. Even though he couldn’t see her as  
often as he’d like, he wanted to establish some sort of routine. He would give her a ring after he  
left work. Sometimes the call was over before he got home, but he considered it a good day when  
it lasted until he walked in the door.

On this particular Tuesday he found himself more eager to hear her voice. Dr. Stephens, the  
coroner, had called them earlier that day with new information. The way the child’s bones were  
broken was curious, so they had run some tests and discovered that he had a genetic disorder,  
Osteogenesis Imperfecta. They weren’t sure if it would be helpful in finding the killer in any way,  
but it was likely that one of the parents had it.

He started dialing her mobile as he walked to his car. It rang three times, then four, and by the  
fifth one he had put his keys in the ignition and gotten her voice mail. He let out a sigh before the  
beep signaled the start of the recording.

“Hi darling, it’s Dad. Just calling to see how you’re doing. Give me a ring back if you can. I  
love you.”

He hung up and pulled out of the car park. Maybe he’d try her again when he got home.

Three blocks later his phone rang.

“Hey, I just left you a message.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear it ring,” she said.

He could hear people talking in the background where she was, and then the familiar sound of  
Tess’ laugh.

“What’re you guys up to?”

“We’re at mini golf.”

“Mum hates golf. Why’d you drag her there?” he joked.

Daisy let out a small but distinguishable sigh.

“It wasn’t my idea; it was Ken’s.”

Hardy paused.

“Ehm, and who’s Ken?”

He could hear Daisy hesitating.

“Friend of mum’s,” she said.

“Oh, okay.”

This was news to him.

“Are you winning?” he asked, changing the subject slightly.

“I don’t know.”

He shouldn’t have been this pleased at how unenthusiastic she sounded. There was a silence on  
both ends with the exception of the sounds of a crowded mini golf course.

“How was school today? Were you able to finish that assignment last week?”

He heard a man’s voice on her end as he pulled up to his house.

“Daisy, it’s your turn.”

He had a posh accent.

“Come on, Dais,” Tess called. “You can call them back.”

Hardy cleared his throat as he got out of the car.

“I gotta go,” Daisy said.

“Right. Good luck.”

He stood outside his door.

“Thanks.”

“I love you,” he added quickly.

She’d already hung up.

He stared at his phone for a few seconds before heading inside as if he were waiting for her to call  
him back. She didn’t.

 

Tom was still under house arrest. Ellie’s anger had softened, but his silence only grew stronger.  
He spent most of his time in his room and did his chores quietly without reminder or complaint. It  
was torturing her. She’d made a rhubarb pie for dessert on Sunday, Tom’s favourite. It wasn’t a  
reward or anything; it was an olive branch. She pre-cut the slices so he couldn’t refuse. He ate  
half of it and didn’t crack a smile, returning promptly to his room after excusing himself from the  
table.

Tonight wasn’t any different from the past week. The house was still quieter than it had been.  
Ellie had taken to putting the radio on when she was in the kitchen to distract herself from the  
silence.

Supper today was a mix of leftovers thrown together as a casserole. There were almost always  
leftovers. She was still adjusting to cooking for three. Tom’s growing appetite had helped, except  
as of late.

“How was school today?” she asked after scooping herself a plateful of casserole.

Tom shrugged.

Her smile faded slightly.

“And how was daycare today, Fred?”

He gave her a mischievous smile and banged his fork on the table. She put some casserole in his  
dish and he stopped.

Her eyes turned back to Tom whose remained fixed on his plate. She rarely saw more than the  
top of his head these days. He was drifting away from her and she couldn’t have that happen  
again. Not now.

“I think next week you can go back to football practice,” she said.

Tom’s head turned up to look at her, if only to see if she was being serious or not.

She gave him a small smile before he turned his head back down to his food.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“There’s still some pie leftover if you want after supper,” she added.

He nodded.

“Okay.”

It wasn’t much, but it was the most she’d heard out of him all day.

 

She spent the rest of her evening online, later than she had planned, trying to figure out what her  
next step would be regarding the divorce. It had been a while since she sent the papers and she  
hadn’t heard either way if Joe had rejected or accepted the terms. The waiting was the worst. She  
wasn’t the most patient person at times.

Her search provided both good news and bad news. The good news was that if Joe didn’t reply  
to the petition by next week she could go ahead and proceed with the divorce. The bad news of  
course was that it meant another week of uncertainty. Then again, she’d had worse weeks.

 

Ellie looked through the mail twice the next day to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. She  
hadn’t. Tom had actually said goodbye to her that morning before they parted ways, so at least  
the day wasn’t without progress.

Wally was already working intently at his newly created workspace in the corner of the basement  
office. He had been researching and exhausting every possible means he could think of surrounding Cain with no luck thus far. It hadn’t put a damper on his determination.

Ellie was surprised to find Hardy’s desk empty. She looked at Wally in hopes of an explanation,  
but he was too absorbed in whatever he was researching at the moment.

Almost fifteen minutes after she sat down at her desk, Hardy marched into the office heading  
straight for his desk. He looked flustered.

“Sorry’m late,” he muttered.

He wasn’t really. He was later than usual, but strictly speaking they didn’t have rigid hours.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I just got in.”

He silently sat down at his desk and turned on his monitor.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, fine,” he replied casually.

He wasn’t about to tell her that he was late because he had dropped his toast on his last clean shirt,  
jam side down. He had to frantically dry one of his freshly laundered ones that was hanging up,  
still wet, with an ancient hair dryer he’d found in the bathroom drawer. It still felt a bit damp  
against his skin.

He wriggled uncomfortably in his seat.

Ellie raised an eyebrow at him. He returned the expression before brushing her off and looking  
back at his screen.

Hardy let out a deep breath. Something about their visit to West Milton was still bothering him.  
He had tried not to think about it too much, hoping the revelation would come naturally when he  
least expected it, but it hadn’t.

He opened up his browser and began searching up Jake Creek, the farmer, to see if anything came  
up; not the result he was looking for. He added “West Milton”. For the better part of that  
morning he read article after small town article about the Creek farm and its orchard and all of the  
cider prizes they had won. Other than the obvious spelling and grammatical errors in the articles,  
nothing jumped out at him.

After exhausting the journalist sources, for lack of a better word, he turned to more conventional  
and likely less fruitful options: social media websites (where this Jake Creek was nowhere to be  
found), the West Milton town website (which looked like it hadn’t been updated since the creation  
of it), and the West Milton Cider Co. website. The latter provided him with a minimal biography  
on Jake, not much more than they already knew, and the origins of the farm. He clicked through  
the photo album, out of mere desperation and boredom at this point. They were arranged from  
newest to oldest; with each click, Jake grew a year younger.

He got into a rhythm; click, scan, click, scan. He stopped. He clicked back to the previous picture, his mouth slowly opening as he realized what he was looking at.

“Oh, yes,” Hardy exclaimed, thrilled he had found the connection and annoyed it had taken him  
this long to see what was right in front of his eyes.

Ellie’s face was leaning into the palm of her propped up hand, eyes half closed, when his voice  
jolted her from her half asleep state. She turned to look at him, waiting for an explanation.

He rummaged through the files in his top drawer until he found the one he was looking for.

“What? What is it?” she asked.

He turned his monitor to face her. It was quite an old photo, but she could see clearly that it was  
Jake Creek posing with a man whom she assumed was his father in the middle of an apple  
orchard.

She looked back at Hardy.

“I don’t get it. What am I supposed to be looking at?”

He held up the piece of paper he had withdrawn from his drawer. It was the evidence photo of  
the crate the child had been found in, the one Hardy had been obsessing over with the partial  
lettering on the side. He pointed to the screen. Next to the tree where Jake and his father stood  
were two wooden crates with “West Milton Cider Co.” printed on the side. Ellie looked back at  
the photograph Hardy was holding. There was no mistaking it. The letters that remained, though  
faded, did seem to match up.

“It’s the same logo that was on the barn,” Hardy said. “I knew it looked familiar.”

She couldn’t blame his excitement. It was the first real discovery they’d made in what felt like  
ages.

“I think it’s time we pay old Jake another visit,” he added.

 

Hardy drove this time. His driving had improved; he had managed to find a steady speed just  
above the limit that didn’t drive Ellie crazy or make her fear for her life.

This time it wasn’t Jake who answered the door, but his wife, June.

“Oh, hello,” she said, surprised at their unexpected arrival.

“Hello, Mrs. Creek. Is Jake at home?” Hardy asked.

“He is. He’s just out back right now.”

“We’d like to have a word with him, if we could.”

“Yes, alright. Come in,” she said, leading them through to the living room they had sat in before.

“Can I get you anything?”

Hardy shook his head.

“No, thank you,” Ellie said.

“I’ll go grab Jake for you.”

They took their seats in the same spots as last time.

“Do you really suppose he could’ve done it?” Ellie asked when June had left. “And why?”

“It’s possible. Maybe it was a child from an affair and he wanted no evidence of it.”

It was grim, but probable. Jake seemed like a decent person when they met. They of all people  
knew that appearances didn’t mean shit.

Jake entered the living room, wiping his brow with a hanky before placing it back in the top  
pocket of his overalls.

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything new to tell you,” he said standing in the doorway.

“We just have some more questions,” Hardy said. “Why don’t you have a seat.”

Hardy could see the worry on Jake’s face that he was trying to conceal. He took a seat in the  
empty chair opposite them.

Hardy slid the evidence photograph of the crate across the table towards Jake.

“Tell me, do you recognize this at all?”

Jake looked at it for a moment and shook his head.

“Nope, can’t say that I do.”

Hardy glanced sideways at Ellie.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, yeah,” he said.

“Do you remember hearing about the body of a child being found near the river not far from here  
back in 1984?”

He paused for a moment, thinking, as if he were trying to decide what he should say rather than  
what he remembered.

“Yeah, that sounds familiar,” he said.

Hardy’s skepticism showed on his face.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Jake added with a laugh. “I’m getting old and my memory isn’t quite  
up to snuff.”

He noticed the serious expressions on the detectives’ faces. He stopped laughing.

“Is that what you’re here about? That child?”

Hardy took out a piece of paper and put it on the table next to the photograph. It was a printout of  
the photo of Jake from the West Milton Cider Co. website.

“We’re fairly certain that this crate the boy was found in came from your farm, Mr. Creek. Would  
you care to explain that?”

Jake shook his head in disbelief at the evidence in front of him.

“You don’t seriously think I had anything to do with that?”

Their expressions told him otherwise.

“I would never hurt a child, never,” he insisted.

Ellie flinched.

“Then how do you explain this?” Hardy asked. “What do you remember about the days leading  
up to when the boy was found?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary that I recall,” he replied, his voice becoming frantic. “That was  
decades ago.”

Hardy remained silent as Jake tried to collect his memories. He shook his head, at a loss.

“I...I just don’t know,” he said.

Hardy nodded and pulled out an evidence bag with a DNA swab kit inside.

“We’d like to take a sample.”

Jake looked at him incredulously.

“We can come back with a warrant if you’d like. It’s no problem to get one.”

He grit his teeth and submitted. Hardy took the swab and secured it in the container before  
placing it in a plastic bag.

Hardy and Ellie stood up, as did Jake, who followed them to the door.

“Don’t leave town, alright?” Hardy added before they left.

Jake nodded.


	10. Chapter 10

The past day and a half’s worth of research into Jake and his past had yielded nothing out of the  
ordinary. He was spotless; he’d never even had a parking ticket. Despite the evidence, or lack  
thereof, Hardy’s gut was telling him there was more there than what they were finding. It was  
Friday, and he hoped for at least some sort of progress before the weekend.

Wally was already fully absorbed at his desk when Hardy and Ellie got in, which was now in a  
similar state as the detectives’ with papers and sticky notes sprawled across the surface. He’d  
abandoned Cain for now, at Hardy’s request, and was taking over whatever little aspects of Jake’s  
life Hardy found potentially useful but too tedious to look into himself.

The first half of their day found no success, and by the time noon rolled around the detectives  
were ready to leave for lunch.

“Don’t you feel weird not inviting him along?” Ellie whispered as they made their way up the  
stairs from the basement.

Hardy looked taken aback.

“What? Wallace?”

He shrugged. It hadn’t occurred to him.

She dug her keys out from the bottom of her bag. It was her turn to drive.

They went to their usual lunch spot, sat in their usual booth, and got their usual orders. Ellie had  
stopped giving him shit about the BLTs; at least it was better than what he would bring to eat from  
home.

Hardy’s phone rang right after he took a bite out of his sandwich. He rolled his eyes and  
mumbled what she assumed was a “bloody hell,” and pulled his phone out.

It was Dirty Brian.

“DI Hardy,” he answered, his mouth still half-full.

“Sorry I caught you on your lunch, but I thought you’d want to know. I was doing a second look  
over on the crate in case we’d missed something the first go around, and we did. There was a  
fingernail caught in a very thin dent in the wood. It must’ve gotten lodged there; not surprised we  
didn’t catch it before.”

“Is there enough to get DNA?”

“Should be, yeah.”

“Brilliant. Run it against the sample we have from Jake, and the database.”

“Will do.”

He hung up and put his phone back in his pocket. Ellie looked at him expectantly.

“They found a fingernail,” Hardy said just as their waitress was approaching.

She froze, a look of sheer horror on her face.

“Oh. No, no. Not in the…” he said, waving his hand around his dish.

She let out a small sigh of relief and kept walking.

“It was lodged in the wood of the crate,” he added to Ellie.

“Thank God,” she said. “Not ‘thank God’ someone’s nail got ripped off. Well, maybe I suppose,  
depending whose it is. If it’s the killer’s, then yes. But ‘thank God’ we’ve got something more.”

“Let’s just hope it’s a match for Jake.”

“Or anyone.”

They both stopped eating.

“Well, no, not anyone,” she corrected. “Someone.”

Hardy’s phone rang again, thankfully before he took his next bite.

“DI Hardy.”

“Dad, it’s me.”

“Daisy, hi.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” she said.

“I’m not. I mean, I am, but good surprised.”

Ellie pretended to give all her attention to the mound of chips on her plate, but every so often her  
eyes would turn up. She’d never seen his face light up quite like that before.

Hardy’s brow crinkled as he remembered what day it was.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“I am. It’s lunch, Dad. No classes at lunch.”

“Right, yeah. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

As much as he’d like to believe she called him during school just to chat, he knew better. She  
spoke up before he could bring out his interrogative dad voice.

“I know it’s last minute, but I was wondering if I could come spend the weekend with you?”

He paused in shock, and a smile slowly returned to his face.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course you can. As long as it’s ok with mum.”

“I asked her before. She said it was fine with her if it was with you.”

“Great. Will she bring you over right from school? No, I suppose you’ll have to pack some  
things first.”

“She said she can bring me to the train station. She’s got plans tonight.”

“Daisy-”

“I’ve done it loads of times.”

“I don’t mind driving up-”

“Dad. I’ll be fine.”

He let out a sigh that showed he was less than convinced.

“I expect regularly text updates on your way, alright?” he said.

“Fine.”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight then. Have a good rest of your day at school, darling.”

“I’ll try.”

He could almost hear her eyes roll.

“Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

He heard a bell ring in the background before the phone clicked off. He sat there with a small  
smile lingering on his face before picking up what remained of the second half of his BLT.

“Good news I gather?” Ellie asked after a moment.

“She’s going to come spend the weekend here.”

“Oh, that’ll be nice. You going to show her all the sights and attractions Broadchurch has to  
offer,” she joked.

They had the beach; that was pretty much it, and though tourism had picked up, it still hadn’t  
returned to its former glory. No one really thought it ever would.

“But seriously, how do you intend to entertain a teenager for a whole weekend?”

He thought about it. They’d probably go out to eat a lot. There weren’t really any malls in  
Broadchurch, not that he enjoyed shopping anyways, but Daisy did. At least she had, last he  
checked.

“You can bring her ‘round for dinner tomorrow night if you want,” she offered. “At least she’d  
have someone closer to her own age to talk to.”

He ran his hand over his beard and down his neck.

“I know your conversational skills could use some work,” she muttered under her breath, picking  
at the chip crumbs left on her plate.

“How is Tom?” he asked awkwardly.

“Better now since I told him he’d be ungrounded next week. I’m getting full sentences out of  
him, not just single word answers.”

“That’s good.”

“You don’t have to come, if you don’t want.”

“Sure, yeah,” he said.

“I wouldn’t want to subject the poor girl to your cooking.”

“I can cook.”

Ellie smirked at the offended tone in his voice.

“Oh really?”

“Yes. I can.”

“Alright,” she said with a condescending smile.

“I can.”

“I believe you.”

She clearly didn’t.

He spent the entire ride from the restaurant back to the station detailing all of the dishes he could  
make. Not to Ellie’s surprise, most of them consisted of pasta.

* * *

 

Hardy left the office a bit earlier than he would have normally. He had to make sure the state of  
his place was suitable before heading to the station to pick up Daisy. One of the things he liked about the house was its abundance of closets and cupboards; it made “cleaning” easier.

When she said she was about an hour away he left for the station. It would take half an hour to  
get there, then he factored in traffic. He wanted to be sure he got there before she did. The  
thought of her waiting alone didn’t sit well with him.

It only took him twenty five minutes to get there. He waited fifteen minutes before texting her that  
he was waiting for her. His eyes alternated between checking his mobile for messages and  
scanning outside the station to see if she’d arrived.

Twenty minutes later his phone beeped.

[just got here]

[waiting out front. blue car.]

Moments later he saw her appear outside with a red duffle bag over her shoulder, running her eyes  
across the row of cars lined up. He rolled down the passenger window and waved at her. He was  
about to honk the horn before she spotted him and came over.

“Hi,” she said as she tossed her bag in the back seat.

“Hi, darling. How was the trip?”

She slid into the passenger seat.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“That’s good.”

He put his phone on vibrate and waited until she had her seatbelt on before pulling out of the  
loading zone.

He ran out of conversation topics before they were halfway back to Broadchurch. His mobile had  
buzzed in his pocket a few times, but they were just text messages. They could wait.

“Are you hungry?” he asked as they drew nearer to town.

She shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess.”

_Teenagers._

“Oh, ehm, tomorrow night we’re invited to dinner at a friend’s. If you want that is,” he added  
quickly.

She turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

She continued to stare.

“I have friends.”

“Ok, Dad.”

“We work together. She’s got a boy, bit younger than you.”

“She?”

“Oh, come off. It’s not like that.”

“I know.”

The certainty with which she spoke startled him.

“What do you mean, you know?”

“You know…”

“Clearly, I don’t.”

“You don’t...date.”

He opened his mouth to argue but there was nothing to argue against.

Daisy smirked.

“Yeah, I’m not like mum,” he muttered.

Her smirk faded and she turned to look out the window. Hardy’s pocket buzzed as he pulled into  
the car park of his regular lunch spot. It was a phone call this time, but he ignored it. Ellie told  
everyone earlier that day to call her first if anything came up with the case so he could have a  
relatively disruption free weekend. It was probably a wrong number. The only calls he ever got  
were about work, or sometimes Daisy, but she was here.

The same hostess from earlier that day was working.

“Hello again,” she said as they walked in.

Daisy looked up at him. He could see the grin on her face out of the corner of his eye.

“Hi. Just for two.”

She led them to a different table, and Hardy was glad to see a different waitress take their orders.

“You still like chocolate milkshakes, yeah?”

She nodded. They’d often get milkshakes when they went out together back when she was  
younger. She’d get chocolate, he’d get vanilla.

“Or are you too old for ice cream,” he added jokingly.

“Aren’t _you_ too old for ice cream?”

“Hey, watch it. Two milkshakes please. Chocolate and vanilla.”

Daisy ordered a burger. Hardy got salad.

“Didn’t want the chicken burger?” Daisy asked jokingly when the waitress left.

He scrunched up his nose. She laughed.

“Why don’t you like chicken?”

“Have you ever been around chickens? They’re filthy and they smell like sh-...They smell  
awful.”

Hardy took a sip of water as she shook her head slightly.

“Would you say they’re fowl?”

He let out a snort and almost choked on his water.

She grinned as if she had just won a bet with herself to see how long it would take her to get him  
to laugh.

“Oh dear,” he said with a cough. “That was bad.”

“You laughed,” she chuckled.

It was his turn to shake his head.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Their laughter softly faded.

He looked at her, a sad smile on his face. He remembered when she was barely six years old and  
had just discovered knock-knock jokes. She’d make up her own; most of the time they made no  
sense whatsoever, but he’d laugh anyways.

Her eyes met his. She didn’t have Tess’ eyes (which now he was thankful for), but she didn’t  
have his either. They were blue, almost marble-like; probably from his mother’s side.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Just...I’m glad you’re here.”

She gave him an awkward smile before turning her eyes around the restaurant in search of a sign  
pointing to the toilets.

“Be right back,” she said.

When she left, Hardy took his mobile out of his pocket. Four text messages, two missed calls, and  
a voicemail. They were all from Tess.

[Hey, have you heard from Dais at all today?]

[Is she with you?]

[Just tell me if she’s with you. This isn’t funny.]

[Alec, call me.]

He dialed his voicemail.

“The one time you choose to ignore your phone,” she muttered off the bat. “Alec, it’s me. Please  
tell me you’re with Daisy, or you know where she is. She told me she was staying after school to  
work on a project, but she never came home and she’s not answering her phone.”

She was frantic; he could tell she was trying to remain composed, but he could hear her voice  
breaking.

“I’ve called all her friends and their parents and they don’t know anything. Call me as soon as  
you get this, alright?”

End of message.

He called Tess immediately. She answered after one ring.

“Thank God, you finally looked at your phone. Tell me she’s with you.”

“Yeah, she’s here.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. That girl. I’m coming to get her.”

“Tess-”

“What? You’d do the same if she had done that to you. She needs to know she can’t just run off  
like that.”

“I know. But she’s already here. It’s a long drive, and it’s getting late.”

Tess exhaled loudly.

“Don’t punish me too,” he added. “She’s here; she’s fine.”

“Alright,” she said after a moment. “Fine. But the moment she gets back she is so very  
grounded.”

Daisy slid back into her seat.

“I’ll drive her back on Sunday, okay?” he said, his eyes now fixed on Daisy.

“Okay. Yeah.”

“Bye.”

He hung up. Daisy looked at him as he put his mobile on the table more forcefully than he had  
intended. Her eyes moved down to her lap.

“Oh,” she said, realizing what must’ve happened.

It’s not that she thought she could get away with it completely, just until she had gotten to town.

“Oh?” he said. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Your mother was worried sick about you. What were you thinking? Well, you weren’t thinking,  
were you?”

With each sentence his brogue grew thicker.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, this time her voice shook and her lips quivered.

He took a deep breath.

“Why’d you do that, darling,” he asked in a softer tone.

She folded her arms and choked back the tears that were forming before she answered.

“This morning mum said Ken was going to take us all out for a fancy supper, and then she went  
on about plans for Saturday, and going to his cottage or some shit like that, and I just…”

Her voice began to shake again, but she held it back.

“I can’t stand him, Dad,” she said, finally looking up at him. “He’s Mr. Perfect and wears polo  
shirts all the time, but mum doesn’t give a shit what I think about it.”

“Daisy…”

“You’d hate him too,” she added.

He leaned in closer to her.

“Listen,” he said. “You don’t have to like him, and you’re welcome to come visit anytime you  
want to. But you can’t just up and leave like that without telling anyone.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

She knew perfectly well what she was doing; she had hoped Tess would freak out.

The waitress came with their food, realized it was an awkward moment, and silently placed it in  
front of them.

“Bloody hell…” Hardy muttered.

He shook his head. What a night.

“I am sorry.”

“I know, darling.”

He reached over and switched their milkshakes. She’d given him the chocolate one and Daisy the  
vanilla instead.

“Can I still stay?”

“Yeah, you can. But I’m driving you back first thing Sunday morning,” he said sternly. “Right  
after breakfast, that is.”

He gave her a small grin. She smiled.


	11. Chapter 11

“This one’s yours,” he said.

Daisy dropped her duffle bag next to the bed and gave the room a once over. It had more knick  
knacks than the rest of the house. She figured he’d probably moved as many as he could in here  
so he wouldn’t have to look at them. Unsurprisingly, they were all more or less nautical themed:  
anchors, ship wheels, hooks. There was a lot of blue. She sort of liked that.

Hardy had explained on the “grand tour” of his place that he hadn’t furnished it (“Obviously,”  
Daisy said). He had actually de-furnished it, in his own way. Mostly by making use of the once  
useless spare room as storage for the decor he didn’t fancy. The less than tasteful items were  
removed from the room before he picked her up, among them a fisherman with a rather suggestive  
fishing pole and a dirty joke inscribed at the bottom.

They had stayed at the restaurant later than he thought. It was dark when they left, and Daisy  
stifled a few yawns on the drive to his place. He had hoped the cleaning he’d done earlier was  
adequate enough. He didn’t want her thinking he was some mess of a bachelor who couldn’t take  
care of himself properly.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked. “Another pillow, a blanket, or anything?”

The bed already had three blankets of varying sizes and four pillows.

“I think I’ll be alright.”

“Right.”

“Night, Dad.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“G’night, darling.”

 

She was still sleeping when he woke up the next morning. When he lazily reached over for his  
mobile on the side table it showed that he already had two texts from Tess wondering how  
everything was going. He made himself a cup of tea before stepping outside and giving her a  
ring.

“Alec, hi. What’s up? Is everything alright?”

Her surprise was fake; he could tell she was glad to hear from him.

“Everything’s fine, Tess,” he said, making no effort to hide his annoyance. “D’you not think I  
can handle my own daughter for a few days?”

“It’s not that, I just…”

It was that.

“Just because she ran off on you-”

“That’s not funny, Alec.”

Neither of them spoke, but their exhales could be heard on both ends.

“Do you have any idea why she did it?” Hardy asked; he was using his interrogation voice, the  
one he used to lure a suspect into a false state of security.

“Not that I can think of really,” Tess said after a rather long of a silence.

_Horseshit._

“Is that right?”

“Don’t make this about that.”

“Oh, he’s a ‘that’ is he?”

“Alec-”

“Daisy told me that’s why she left, because of what’s his name, Carl, or whatever-”

“Ken.”

“Oh right, Mr. Barbie.”

“Look, just because I’ve moved on-”

“That’s not what I mean, Tess.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“She said she can’t stand him, and you and I both know she’s less than subtle when she doesn’t  
like someone.”

“She’s a teenager! She doesn’t like anyone. She’s never buddied up to any of the guys I’ve  
dated.”

Silence.

“Right,” Hardy said as he processed the new information. “Well, she’s fine; we’re fine.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you be, then.”

“Good.”

“Will you let me know when you plan to bring her back on Sunday?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Thanks,” she said softly.

He heard what he could only assume was Ken’s voice in the background.

“I should get going,” she added.

“Right. And Tess-”

“Yeah?”

“Think of someone other than yourself next time.”

He paused briefly to see if she would make any retort before hanging up the phone.

 

Daisy didn’t wake up until almost 11.

“Do you not own any normal clothes?” she asked.

She had found him standing in the kitchen in dress pants, a shirt, and jacket (no tie). It was his  
usual not-at-work outfit.

He looked down at himself.

“What d’you mean ‘normal clothes’? These are normal clothes.”

She half rolled her eyes.

“Come on then,” he said, mussing up her already messy bedhead. “We can try and find me a polo  
shirt today.”

“Ugh, God, no,” she said as she ducked away from his hand.

“I’d ask what you want for breakfast, but it’s almost lunch.”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Cup of tea?”

“Do you have any coffee?”

He put his hands on his hips.

“When did you start drinking coffee?”

Daisy shrugged.

“Everyone drinks coffee,” she said as if it were an obvious fact.

He gave her that look, the one that threatened to give the “if everyone jumped off a bridge”  
lecture.

She rolled her eyes again, but this time with a small smile on her face.

“Tea’s fine.”

 

They drove to the pier that afternoon. Hardy was glad it turned out to be a nice day, and not too  
cold either. He wasn’t sure what they would’ve done if it had been raining.

“There’s an arcade here?” she said as they drove by.

“Yeah.”

“Can we go?”

He glanced over at her; she had a cheeky grin on her face. She knew he hated arcades. He raised  
an eyebrow at her and her grin widened.

“I’m kidding.”

Hardy scanned the area when they parked for any familiar faces. There were none. He could  
only imagine how people would react to the sight of them. Most of them probably didn’t even  
know he had a daughter.

He didn’t have a plan for the afternoon, but luckily he didn’t need one. They grabbed a bite to eat  
from one of the vendors before walking along the pier. Daisy just got chips. He wasn’t all that  
hungry, but he snagged a few of hers. She covered them in vinegar like Tess; it burned his finger  
where he had presumably gotten a paper cut the day before.

There were silences in their conversation, but he rarely found himself searching for the next topic.  
Miller had worried him in those terms; he had spent almost an hour in bed the night before  
thinking of things he could talk about.

The ice cream stand was still open at this time of year to his surprise, and he couldn’t pass up  
getting them each a ninety-nine. Daisy ate his chocolate flake though. He was never really a fan  
of them.

Beth passed by in front of them, pushing Lizzie in her pram as they turned around to find an  
empty bench. She and Hardy exchanged a brief look and a small smile. He saw her eyes linger  
for a moment on Daisy before she kept walking.

“I remember when we used to do this,” Daisy said as they sat down on the closest available  
bench.

He smiled.

“Yeah, that little shop back in town. They knew our names there, we went so often,” he laughed.

They’d walk there after supper in the summertime, the three of them, and get ice cream.

Sometimes just he and Daisy would go. Sometimes the two of them went after school when she  
was younger, if she’d had a good day as a celebration, or a consolation on a bad one. Sometimes  
just because.

“Do you like it here?” she asked.

He paused and looked around. It was more crowded than usual at this time of year, likely on  
account of the weather. The pier smelled like a carnival but with the salty ocean air instead of  
cotton candy. His eyes looked out onto the horizon. He didn’t hate it quite like he used to.

His phone beeped multiple times in his pocket. It was his alarm, just in case they lost track of  
time.

“We’d better get going,” he said. “We don’t want to be late.”

 

Ellie answered the door within seconds of Hardy’s knocking.

“Hello! Come on in.”

It smelled like dinner was almost ready.

Daisy watched to see if Hardy took off his shoes or not and followed his lead.

“You must be Daisy,” Ellie said, offering her hand. “I’m Ellie.”

Daisy nodded slightly and shook her hand, eyes remaining mostly downwards.

A buzzer went off.

“Make yourselves at home,” she said before walking swiftly back to the kitchen.

Hardy brought Daisy into the living room where Tom was sitting on the floor playing cars with  
Fred. He looked up when they walked in.

“Hello, Tom.”

“Hello.”

“This is my daughter, Daisy.”

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she said.

“This is Tom, and that’s Fred,” Hardy said.

Fred looked up at the mention of his name and then right back down at the firetruck in his hand.  
They stood there, both awkwardly, until the call for dinner saved them.

“Daisy, you can sit right next to Tom, there,” Ellie said when they gathered round the table.

Hardy assumed the empty seat at the head of the table with Daisy and Ellie’s spot on either side of  
him, facing each other. She disappeared into the kitchen and came back carrying a large covered  
dish, probably a roast again. He didn’t mind.

“I’m using two pot holders this time,” she said to Hardy.

He gave her a small smirk.

When she lifted the lid it wasn’t a roast underneath like he has suspected. Well, it was, but not the  
kind he had been thinking of. It was a roast chicken.

Daisy was grinning like mad out of the corner of his eye; she looked on the verge of laughing. A  
brief side-eyed glare from him silenced any potential giggles.

_Of course it would be chicken._

Much to Daisy’s surprise, he not only accepted the rather large portion of chicken that Ellie gave  
him, he ate it as well. And fast, too. Two bites at a time, each followed with a large sip of water.

Other than the unfortunate presence of the chicken, the dinner went over better than expected. He  
was anticipating an episode like last time, only magnified. Ellie had tried to make conversation  
with Daisy, but she wasn’t that talkative this evening, and Ellie took the hint.

“Why don’t you two play a game or something while I get dessert ready,” Ellie suggested, more to

Tom than Daisy.

He nodded and the two of them went upstairs.

Hardy began scraping and piling the plates.

“Oi,” she snapped.

He continued collecting the dishes. She rolled her eyes and brought the leftover food to the  
counter.

“She seems nice.”

Hardy let out a snort. Daisy barely said anything all night.

“Bit quiet,” Ellie added. “Not that that’s a bad thing.”

Hardy brought the stack of plates to the kitchen and scraped the food pile off the top one into the  
bin. He had forgotten she closed off like that in new situations and was kicking himself for it.  
Maybe this had been a bad idea.

“She’s not always,” he said. “It’s a new place, new people, you know…”

“Well, she’s definitely your daughter, then.”

He knew that was a bit of a jab, but he smiled anyways as he loaded the dishwasher. Ellie gave  
him a look that he pretended to ignore.

They sat back at the table once everything had been cleared and set for dessert. She had made  
them each a cup of tea.

“Did you find something to do today?”

“Yeah, yeah we did. It was good.”

“It’s harder to find things as they get older,” she said with a sad smile. “Fred’s happy to do  
anything, really. But Tom’s got friends, football, school work. He spends a bunch of his time on  
the computer.”

Hardy nodded slowly. She took a sip of her tea.

“They get harder and harder to entertain,” she added.

Maybe that’s why today had gone over so well with Daisy; it was a day of nostalgia. They talked  
a bit about school and her friends and that sort of thing, but a lot of their conversations were  
focused on memories. It was nice at the time, but seemed more depressing in hindsight.

“Kids,” Ellie said, shaking her head slightly.

“Teenagers,” he corrected.

“Oh, God. He is a teenager, isn’t he?”

Hardy laughed under his breath. Ellie shook her head in disbelief.

“You know,” he said after a silence. “Today was the first time in a long time that I really felt like  
a dad again. Properly.”

He fiddled with the tab on the end of the tea bag string, wishing he hadn’t said anything.

“It must be hard not seeing her often.”

She said it like someone who didn’t know what it was like, but she did. He cleared his nose and  
rubbed the back of his neck. Then he laughed.

“I forgot to tell you,” he said.

“What?”

He really shouldn’t be laughing.

“Daisy didn’t tell Tess she was coming up here.”

Ellie’s jaw dropped.

“No!”

Hardy nodded.

“Oh my-”

“Yup.”

“I’ll bet that was a fun phone call.”

“It’s all fine now. She’ll get Tess’ wrath when she gets home.”

Ellie chuckled.

“I’m just glad she’s here,” he added.

She smiled.

“Better call the kids for dessert,” she said as she rose from the table. “Sorry. I mean the  
teenagers.”

He smirked and finished off the last of his tea.

 

Tom had brought Daisy to the games room upstairs. She scanned the shelves, not bothering to  
look seriously at any of the options.

“Most of them are better with three players, but they work with two. Just not as fun,” he said.

He stood a few steps behind her with his hands in his pockets.

“We don’t have to play a game. My mum just said that to get us out of the way for a bit.”

“Grown-up time,” she said.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “You live with your mum, too?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t like it?” he asked, picking up on her tone.

The back of her head waved side to side.

“It’s alright, I guess. I’m in a bit of shit when I get home.”

Tom was surprised by her language, but he couldn’t help but smile at the casual way in which she  
used it.

“What’d you do?”

Daisy turned around to face him.

“Ran away, I suppose. I didn’t tell my mum I was coming here. She totally freaked,” she said  
with a hint of pride in her voice.

Tom shuddered. He didn’t even want to think of how his mum would react if he had done that.

“Do you prefer being with her over your dad?” he asked.

Her eyes dropped.

He wasn’t trying to be nosy or rude; he needed to know, for his own peace of mind.

She looked back up at him.

“I don’t know,” she said.

He nodded.

“Does he come over here a lot?” she asked.

Tom shook his head.

Daisy nodded, satisfied with the answer.

He waited for Daisy to ask about his parents, but she didn’t.

“You probably know then, don’t you,” he said.

It was more of a statement than a question.

She nodded.

They stood there silently for a moment.

“Parents can be pretty shit sometimes,” she said.

He laughed. He didn’t know why it was funny, but it was. She laughed too.

“Yeah,” he said. “They sure can be.”

They heard footsteps, then Ellie’s voice.

“Dessert’s ready,” she called.

“Coming,” Tom called back.

The two of them headed back downstairs, Daisy leading the way.

 

The parents were pleasantly surprised to find a more, if only slightly, talkative Daisy at dessert.  
She and Tom seemed to have got on alright, which was a relief. Hardy had a nagging worry at  
the back of his head that they would somehow hate each other for no reason. He felt silly for  
thinking that now.

Ellie had made an apple pie, which he was delighted to see after the chicken dinner, and more  
than happy to accept a large slice of. They almost finished off the whole pie between them all,  
save one small piece. Hardy, Tom, and Daisy helped clear the table while Ellie got Fred ready for  
bed. It was already well past his bedtime.

"Thanks, Tom," Ellie said when she came back downstairs.

Tom opened his mouth and looked at Hardy who subtly shook his head.

"No problem," he said.

"We should probably get going," Hardy said. "We've got to be up a bit earlier tomorrow."

He looked at Daisy with a bit of a smile that she tried not to return.

"Thanks for dinner, Miller," he said, walking to the door.

"Thank you," Daisy added politely to Ellie.

"You're welcome anytime," she smiled.

"See you later then. Tom," he nodded.

Tom nodded back.

"Bye, Tom," Daisy said.

"G'bye."

Hardy and Ellie shared a look before he closed the door behind him.

"Why do you call her 'Miller'?" Daisy asked as they walked to the car.

"That's her name," he replied, as if it were obvious.

She dropped the subject, and they silently got into his car and made their way home.

"So," he started. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Yeah," she said nonchalantly, but with a smile. "It was alright."


	12. Chapter 12

Hardy knocked on her bedroom door at quarter to ten the next morning. He told her she had to be  
up by nine, but when he opened her door she was still fast asleep and didn’t want to wake her just  
yet.

“I’m up,” Daisy said sleepily from the other side of the door.

“Breakfast’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“Okay,” she mumbled.

He returned to the kitchen and got the large cast iron pan out from the bottom cupboard. It was  
the best for pancakes. The pan he’d found in the house was almost identical to the one he used to  
use on Sunday mornings. Daisy liked when they were smaller, no bigger than the size of a fist, so  
that she could pick them up and dip them in syrup. Hardy ate them the same, except with a fork  
(and less syrup). Tess was never a big fan of pancakes, but she’d eat them anyways. Some of the  
time at least. Other times she would put the batter in the waffle iron.

The butter sizzled and dispersed as it hit the hot pan. Hardy finished beating the egg whites and  
folded them into the rest of the batter, a secret his mum had told him.

Daisy shuffled out of the bedroom, still in her pyjamas, and took a seat at the kitchen table.

“Morning, sleepy head.”

He dropped four small spoonfuls of batter into the pan, careful not to make them too big.

“We’re not still leaving at ten, are we?”

“No. I texted Mum and told her we’d be a bit later,” he said.

Tess was less than thrilled, but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it.

Daisy let out a small groan and rested her head on the table. She could tell by his tone of voice  
that Tess had been in a mood when he’d talked to her.

“Could we leave after lunch?” she asked, raising her head. “Go back down to the pier maybe, or  
to that place we went for dinner - get milkshakes like we used to.”

As much as he would love that, he was already pushing it time wise.

“You’re going to have to face her eventually.”

Her face dropped and she exhaled loudly. He turned around to flip the pancakes. The undersides  
were perfectly browned.

“Next time,” he said. “Promise just tell her where you’re going, alright?”

He hoped there’d be a next time.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “I promise.”

He turned back around and leaned on the edge of the counter.

“Cross your heart?”

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

“Cross my heart."

 

They left just before eleven. It only took ten minutes of silence for Daisy to turn the radio on and  
try to find something she liked.

“Whoa, hey, go back to that last one.”

Those three seconds sounded familiar. She turned the dial back to the previous station where the  
rest of Cat Stevens’ “Wild World” continued to play, as he had suspected.

Daisy paused, her fingers still on the dial, and looked up at him. The smallest smile was visible on  
his face; she thought his head was even bobbing to the beat.

He glanced over at her. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“This is Cat Stevens,” he said as if she’d know what he was talking about.

Her expression showed she clearly didn’t.

“What do they teach you in those schools,” he muttered.

Daisy took her hand off the dial and let the song play.

_Oh, baby, baby it’s a wild world_

_It’s hard to get by just upon a smile_

Hardy’s fingers tapped softly on the steering wheel.

_Oh, baby, baby it’s a wild world_

_I’ll always remember you like a child, girl_

He mouthed the words to himself; he was surprised he remembered them all.

_You know I’ve seen a lot of what the world can do_

_And it’s breaking my heart in two_

His mouth stopped.

_Because I never wanna see you a sad girl_

Daisy was staring out the window. He cleared his nose.

“You can change it if you want.”

She shrugged.

_But if you wanna leave, take good care_

_I hope you make a lot of nice friends out there_

_But just remember there’s a lot of bad and beware_

When the song ended the station went to commercials; she resumed scanning for something else.

She found one she liked. It was a bit fuzzy, but not intolerably so.

Hardy’s brow furrowed and he glanced over at the radio. He barely understood half the words they were saying, and it wasn’t because of the static.

“Is this what people listen to?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Better than that rap music I suppose.”

Daisy suppressed a laugh. Less than a minute later the beat changed and the rap portion of the  
song commenced. Hardy half rolled his eyes.

She changed the station again and found something else she liked. Her hand hovered over the dial  
waiting for an objection, but none came. She looked over at him; he seemed to not mind it.

_‘Cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done_

_I need to be youthfully felt ‘cause, God, I never felt young_

His head began bobbing again, more hesitantly than last time, but bobbing nonetheless.

Daisy smirked.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she smiled.

They sat silently and contently as the song played on and the long road stretched out before them.

_Every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside_

_Sit back and watch the world go by_

_Happy to lie back and watch it turn to rust_

_We tried the world, good God, it wasn’t for us_

 

They made it to Sandbrook in good time, despite extending their petrol station stop by going  
across the street for milkshakes. It was cold out, but she had asked and he couldn’t say no.

Daisy took her time collecting her things from the car when they got there. Tess answered the  
door almost as soon as he knocked.

“Hello.”

She gave him that forced smile she often did and looked down at Daisy. Her eyes were staring at  
her shoes, not daring to meet Tess’.

Hardy wrapped an arm around her and gave her a squeeze.

“Goodbye, darling.”

Her arm slipped around his waist and hugged him back.

“Bye, Dad.”

He kissed the top of her head.

“Go on inside, love,” Tess said.

Daisy slipped past her inside and up the stairs. Tess shook her head and let out a sigh.

Hardy heard voices coming from the other room.

“Is he here?” he asked.

So help him, if he were there after all this...

“No. Jesus, Alec. It’s just the TV.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You can come in and see if you like,” she challenged. “For goodness sake-”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m not the one who started.”

“Oh really?”

“Can we not do this now? Please.”

She was serious. Her hand ran up her forehead and smoothed down her hair that was pulled back  
into a messy ponytail. It looked like she hadn’t slept much.

“I should head back,” he said.

“Ok.”

“Don’t be too hard on her. She feels bad enough as it is.”

She scoffed.

“Tess.”

“Alright.”

“I’ve told her she can come whenever she wants.”

Her eyes grew wide.

“As long as she checks with you first,” he finished. “And if she says she has, I’ll talk to you, ok?”

She folded her arms and leaned in the open doorway.

“Fine.”

“Right. I’m off.”

Tess nodded and watched him turn around and walk back to his car before returning inside.

* * *

 

Monday morning came and Hardy felt weird going back to work. Usually by Sunday he was  
ready for the week to start, but this time he hadn’t wanted the weekend to end.

Ellie strolled into the office just moments after he got settled at his desk.

“Morning.”

“G’morning,” she replied, although she sounded confused as to whether it was a good morning or  
not.

He picked up on her tone, and stopped what he was working on to look up at her, one eyebrow  
raised slightly.

“Today was the deadline. Joe didn’t reply,” she explained.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what’s next?”

“Well, I have to apply for this decree thing, and then go to a hearing to discuss it. Then they’ll  
decide one way or the other.”

Hardy rubbed his hand over his face. He was glad it hadn’t been quite so complicated with Tess.

“It was easier to get married,” she continued. “God, why is there so much paperwork? Why can’t I just say ‘my husband killed a child and I need a divorce’ and they put our marriage certificate through a shredder or something and that be the end of it?”

Ellie sighed as she plopped down at her desk.

“That’s good though, that he didn’t dispute it at least.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. No,” she corrected. “It is good.”

They each went about sorting out their desks trying to remember where they’d left off last.

“How was the rest of your weekend with Daisy? Did she have a good time?”

“It was good. Yeah, I think so.”

He hoped so.

“Oh good, you’re here.”

SOCO Brian stepped into their office with an unusual smile on his face and papers in his hand.

“Are those the DNA results?” Hardy asked.

Brian looked down at them, still smiling, and back at Hardy.

“They sure are.”

“Did they match Jake?”

“No, I’m afraid they didn’t.”

Hardy rubbed his eyes from underneath his glasses.

“But I’m near certain the nail belonged to the mother.”

“What? Really?” Ellie asked.

He nodded.

“She’s not in the system, though.”

“But we have the DNA for both the parents, so that’s something.”

“Better than nothing, I suppose,” Hardy said as he ran his hand from his eyes down his face and  
neck. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Oh, and I have something else.”

He paused, the grin on his face growing wider.

“I’m engaged!”

“What?” they said in unison.

“Yeah,” he replied, unfazed by their shock. “Over the weekend.”

They both stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Oh, well, congratulations,” Ellie said once she’d recovered.

“Thanks,” he beamed. “Well, that’s all.”

Once he had left Ellie and Hardy turned to face each other with identical expressions.

“Someone agreed to marry Dirty Brian,” Hardy said, his face still scrunched up in disgust.

Ellie laughed but cringed inside at the memory of the time she had been turned down by him.

Their attention returned to the other news they’d received.

“It could’ve been the mother,” Hardy mused.

Ellie didn’t want to think about that.

“How does everything else come into play though? If she killed him, how did the father and  
Cain’s blood get on the nightgown? They were probably fighting, and if so, what about?”

“And how does Jake Creek fit into all of this? We’ve got more bloody questions than answers.”

“Do you think he’s still involved in it all?”

Hardy chewed the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t shake the feeling he got when they were at his  
farm.

“I don’t know.”

They had come to the end of their rope in terms of Jake. The DNA was their last hope in finding  
a connection between him and the case.

Wally entered the office carrying a tray with three to-go cups in it.

“Good morning!”

He was rather chipper today. He inspected the sides of each cup and placed the correct tea on  
each of their desks.

“Aw, thanks Wally,” Ellie said.

“No problem at all.”

“Thanks,” Hardy said.

“You’re welcome, sir. What’s on the agenda for today?”

“The nail didn’t belong to Jake; it was the mother’s.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Is there anything more you can look into on Cain?”

It felt like backtracking, but it was one of their few options.

“Yeah, yeah I have a few more trails I can follow.”

“Great.”

“I’ll get right on it,” he said, turning on his heels to head to his desk.

“Thanks, Wally.”

He stopped but didn’t turn around.

Hardy continued scanning the pages before him. Wally glanced sideways at Ellie who smiled at  
him. He continued walking, almost skipping, to his desk, determined to find something  
worthwhile to contribute to the case.

 

After dinner, Ellie found herself in her room staring at divorce papers once again. This was her  
last chance, really, and she didn’t want to fuck anything up. Maybe she should have gotten a  
lawyer, not that she could afford one.

_If you consider that the Respondent’s behaviour has affected your health, state the effect it has_   
_had._

She scoffed at the less than two inch high box given to write her answer. She was ready to tear  
her hair out.

_Is the Respondent’s behaviour as set out in your petition continuing?_

“God, I hope not.”

It was only three pages but almost all the fields were still blank. She checked the time on her  
phone. It wasn’t eight o’clock yet. She paused before scrolling through her contacts; her number  
was still there.

“Right,” she said to herself before taking a deep breath.

She clicked the number and waited. It rang. It rang again.

_Fuck, what if she’s sleeping already?_

“Hello?” a voice answered, but not the one she was expecting.

“Maggie?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Ellie.”

“Oh, hi.”

“Hi.”

They were both surprised to hear the other’s voice.

“Uh, I was just hoping to talk to Jocelyn.”

“Of course.”

“If it’s not a good time I can call later.”

“No bother. We were just having a cup of tea.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, yes. Just a moment.”

A few seconds later Jocelyn’s voice came on the other end.

“Hello.”

“Hi, it’s Ellie.”

“Yes, I know,” she laughed softly.

“Right.”

“What can I do for you?”

“It’s a bit silly really. Um, I’m going through the process of divorcing Joe. Well, trying to.  
Surprisingly difficult considering the circumstances.”

“Ah. I see. And you’re looking for some legal advice, is that right?”

She always sounded like a lawyer, even when she wasn’t in court. Her voice was soft though,  
surprisingly maternal considering she’d never had children.

“No. Well, yes, sort of,” she flustered. “I just...I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s alright. What stage are you at right now?”

“He never replied to my petition so I’m applying for a decree nisi, but they don’t give you nearly  
enough space on these tiny forms and everything is so complicated and…”

She took another deep breath.

“I know,” Jocelyn said. “I haven’t worked all that much with divorce cases, but I know the  
system. The best advice I can give you is to be concise and factual. I know that’s not the easiest  
in this circumstance, but it’s going to be the most helpful.”

“Right, ok. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. The emotions will come into play more during the hearing.”

Her stomach turned at the thought of having to be in court again.

“Ok. Thank you, really.”

It was simple advice, but she felt more at ease.

“It will all work out in the end, if not now then a few years down the road when you’ll be  
separated for long enough to have it granted.”

“Yeah.”

“It might take longer than it should, but it will work out.”

“The waiting is brutal.”

“I know.”

There was a weight in Jocelyn’s voice that wasn’t there before.

“Thanks again. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Ellie. And try not to worry too much.”

“I’ll try.”

She hung up the phone. The blank pages still stared at her. She collected them in a pile and put  
them in the drawer of her nightstand. They could wait until tomorrow.


	13. Chapter 13

It took three days and half a dozen discarded drafts before Ellie felt the decree nisi was worthy to  
send off. She made a list of all the facts and hesitantly crossed off the ones that weren’t  
considered facts by the court (even though they were bloody well true). She had reduced the past  
traumatic months of her life into an emotionless box of words on less than a quarter of a page. It  
was depressing.

For whatever reason she had hesitated dropping it in the mail before work. Maybe she’d read it  
over just once more in the afternoon and send it off afterwards. After all, she had stayed up later  
than normal rewriting out the final copy, making sure her writing was as neat as it could be. Her  
rashness hadn’t done her much good in the past.

She gave herself an extra five minutes after work to mail it before picking up Fred from childcare.  
She’d spent almost a good hour of her day re-reading it, checking for grammatical errors. When  
the end of the day rolled around she felt satisfied, even more satisfied when she heard the  
envelope drop into the bottom of the mailbox.

Fred was playing contently by himself with a light-up patrol car in the corner when she came to  
get him. He’d been into those lately; not just police toys, but firetrucks and ambulances too.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Ellie said as she knelt down next to him.

The patrol car was in one hand, pursuing a red convertible that he held in his other. They crashed  
together and he made the sound effect with his mouth.

“Oh no,” he said, looking up at her.

She made a silly surprised face and he giggled.

“Alright, time to go home. Mummy still needs to figure out what to make for supper.”

He willingly let her scoop him up in her arms to bring him to the car. Two of the caretakers  
smiled at her as she left.

“Bye Ellie. Bye Fred,” one of them said.

Ellie smiled back politely but kept walking. She hated their smiles. Even now, they were still tainted with pity, but the kind of pity mixed with the relief that they didn’t have her life.

 

The house was empty when she got home, which hadn’t been the case lately since Tom hadn’t  
been allowed to go to football. Today was his first day back since he’d been grounded; she made  
a mental note to remember to leave on time to get him after supper.

She let Fred play in the living room while she rummaged through the pantry and scanned the  
fridge looking for inspiration.

“What should we have tonight, Fred?”

He rarely answered her questions (half the time he was too absorbed in his toys), but it had  
become a habit, talking to him like that. He was all she had when the case ended. If she hadn’t  
have had someone to talk to, she’d have gone mad inside her own head, even if it was just a  
toddler.

It’s not that there wasn’t food in the house, but nothing felt appetizing or like it would work in a  
cohesive meal. She stared blankly into the fridge for a bit longer before switching back to the  
cupboards to see if anything had changed. Part of the problem was she didn’t feel like cooking  
either. She’d contemplated ordering in on her way home, but they had food and she had to save  
money any way she could. She ate out enough at work as it was.

Her eyes skipped over the shelf of cans to the box of pasta. It seemed like a viable option this time  
around. She grabbed the box and a nearby jar of sauce. If she had planned better she could’ve  
picked up some ground beef earlier, but there were some vegetables in the fridge she could throw  
in.

Every so often she’d check on Fred, who was playing with his firetruck (one of his favourites) and  
making soft siren sounds as he drove it all around the living room floor. She stroked his curly hair  
and smiled. He looked more like her, which she was thankful for. When he was first born, he’d  
looked just like Joe, except for the hair of course. He’d always had her hair.

“He’s his mother’s son,” Joe would say.

_You’re damn right, he is._

She kissed the top of his mop hair before returned back to the kitchen.

 

Ellie’s phone alarm went off after supper reminding her to pick up Tom. She loaded Fred into the  
car and hoped he would fall asleep. He usually did on the way home, so she put him in his  
pyjamas beforehand. Whenever she looked back in her rear mirror she saw his eyelids grow  
heavier and soon enough his head drooped to the side. He was sound asleep by the time she got  
to the field.

Tom was waiting at the edge of the field near the sidewalk where Ellie pulled the car over.

“Fred’s asleep,” she whispered when Tom opened the passenger door.

He nodded and shut the door as softly as he could while still making sure it was closed. The first  
few minutes of the drive were silent.

“How was practice?”

Tom shrugged.

“It was good.”

“That’s good.”

“They missed me though. We lost a big game last week,” he mumbled.

Clearly he hadn’t completely gotten over his punishment.

“Well now you know not to fight at school the next time an important game comes up, yeah?”

He exhaled loudly through his nose, almost a grunt, and turned away to look out the window. His  
arms were already crossed. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that.

The silent drive continued, Fred still sleeping in the backseat.

“D’you know why I got in that fight?” Tom said quietly after a moment.

Ellie looked over at him. He was staring straight ahead; she could see one of his eyes growing  
red. She thought she had asked for an explanation but she couldn’t quite remember now.

“I was in class and the kid behind me kept kicking my chair,” he continued. “I tried to ignore it at  
first, thought maybe it was accidental, but then he kept doing it and laughing. So I turned around  
and asked him to stop. He didn’t. He kept kicking it harder and harder.”

“Where was your teacher?”

“Not in the room. I was getting angry so I stood up and told him he’d better stop.”

His voice was starting to crack and water had begun to form in his eyes.

“He got up, too, right in my face. ‘Or what?’ he said. ‘Or you’ll kill me? Just like your dad,  
eh?’”

She felt her heart break.

Tom cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes.

“Then he shoved me, and I shoved him back. He saw the teacher walk in at that moment so he  
made a big show of it and fell over.”

Ellie’s mouth hung open, but no words came out. She didn’t even know what to say.

The only sound in the car for the rest of the ride home was Fred’s loud breathing. Ellie pulled into  
the driveway and got out. She immediately walked over to the other side of the car and engulfed  
Tom in a hug when he stepped out. He dropped his bag on the ground and wrapped his arms  
around her as well. He let himself go; all of the emotions he had been bottling up were released.  
She could feel his sobs convulsing in her arms.

“You’re not him,” she whispered. “You’re you.”

She felt him nod. His body calmed.

Before they parted, she kissed the top of his head.

“We’re going to be alright.”

He nodded and gave her a small smile.

“Pasta’s in the fridge,” she said.

She handed him the keys before attempting to take the sleeping Fred out of his seat with as little  
disturbance as possible.

* * *

 

Wally had been coming into the office earlier than both of them this week, and drinking twice as  
much tea. Ellie would smirk at the occasional nonsensical murmur that came from him when he  
was really invested in what he was looking at. Hardy either didn’t hear it or pretended he didn’t.

On this particular afternoon the murmurs were few but the impatient finger drumming on the edge  
of his desk and chair, basically any hard surface at all, were quite frequent. His hair had become  
significantly more wild over the past few days and looked in desperate need of a trim. Ellie  
wondered how he could even see anything with the wisps of ginger locks in his face all the time.

Noon struck and still no word. Ellie was starving. She’d only had time for a muffin for breakfast  
that morning, and it was a bit stale. Fish and chips sounded like heaven right now, but she had  
brought food today: leftover pasta from the night before. She’d made far too much.

The rich smell of the tomato sauce filled the office as it heated up in the microwave. It smelled so  
good it distracted Wally from his impatience.

“Wish my mum cooked as well as you,” he said.

Ellie smiled.

“Not that I still live with my mum,” he added hastily. “That would just be-”

Hardy looked up at him.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with people who live with their parents, I mean. Just…”

He gave up.

The microwave dinged. Ellie picked up the container by the edges with her fingertips and walked  
quickly back over to her desk. She stirred the noodles in with the pasta and watched the steam  
rise.

Hardy glanced over at her and she thought she heard him let out a small snort.

“What?”

She looked over and he had a faint smirk on his face and was shaking his head slightly.

He returned his attention to his work. She remained unmoved.

“Stooping to my level, I see,” he said.

He looked back over at her, her face contorted in confusion. His eyes gestured to the container of  
pasta. She looked down at it and made the connection.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she muttered.

He grinned as he stood up and walked over to the microwave, container in hand. A few minutes  
later he returned. He too had brought pasta, but his was dry.

Their eyes met briefly as he sat down.

“At least I put something on mine.”

Wally resumed his fidgeting.

“Did you bring pasta for lunch too, Wally?” Ellie asked. “We could be the Italian Trio.”

“Al Dente Detectives,” he smirked.

Ellie could feel Hardy rolling his eyes.

Wally pulled a styrofoam bowl of microwavable noodles out of his drawer, which appeared to be  
stocked with them.

“Don’t know if this really counts as pasta, but close enough I suppose,” he smiled awkwardly.

The Talking Head’s “Psycho Killer” started blaring from Wally’s pocket. It startled him at first,  
and the detectives, but he quickly realized what it meant and answered his mobile.

“Hello, D.S. Wallace...Yes.”

He grabbed the nearest piece of semi-clean paper and a pen and began jotting something down.

“Oh, ok. Right...Thank you. G’bye.”

He hung up the phone. The energy from his face had been somewhat drained. He sighed.

“Well that was a bit of a bust.”

“What?” Hardy asked.

“I’d found out Cain was a registered organ donor and had a feeling that maybe the hospital reports  
from after his death would reveal something important.”

“What’d they say?” Ellie asked.

“Even though he had cancer, they thought they might be able to use some of his organs if they  
were still ok. They discovered he had lead poisoning. A bullet was lodged in his leg, probably  
for quite a while. It could’ve even caused his cancer, or contributed to it, she said.”

Ellie turned to Hardy.

“Didn’t Jake say Cain had a limp?”

Hardy thought about it for a moment then nodded.

“Well that explains that. Not exactly helpful, but it’s information,” he said.

“Sorry,” Wally said.

“We know more now than we did before,” Hardy said. “That’s something.”

Wally managed half a smile.

There was a knock on the doorframe. The office door was rarely closed; it felt too confined  
otherwise.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said the DS at the door.

It was the noisy one Ellie disliked.

“There’s someone here to see you.”

“Who is it?” Hardy asked.

“Woman by the name of June Creek.”


	14. Chapter 14

June was waiting in one of the interrogation rooms upstairs. Ellie was relieved when they were  
led past the one that had haunted her dreams and further down the hall to where June was waiting  
for them.

She was fiddling with one of the large buttons at the very bottom of her off-white wool cardigan.  
It no longer stood upright, but hung from the fabric by a few threads like the head of someone  
who’d dozed off. Beneath her cardigan she wore a pink, white, and yellow flower patterned  
dress. Her light gray hair was pulled back neatly into a bun.

The sound of the door opening surprised her, and she immediately rested her now still hands on  
her lap. She smiled at the detectives as best she could.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hello, Mrs. Creek,” Ellie replied before sitting down.

“June. Please.”

Hardy took his seat quietly. He reached over and clicked the recorder on, rattling off the usual  
information: date, time, witness, etc. When he was finished he turned his attention to June, his  
hands folded in front of him on the table.

“So, what brings you down here?”

“I would’ve come sooner, but...well, anyways.”

She resumed playing with the loose button, but caught herself and stopped.

“I don’t even know if this will be any help.”

“Anything’s helpful,” Ellie said.

June looked up at her; Ellie smiled reassuringly.

“I saw the child, and his mother. Poor things. I don’t recall what day it was. This was some  
years ago, as you know. It was before it became news in the papers and I had put two and two  
together.”

“Where did you see them?” Hardy asked.

“Wooded area near the river. Earnscombe Copse. I would go walking there sometimes. It was  
usually empty; it’s not exactly a place people go to, which is why I like it so much I suppose.”

She took a deep breath before she continued.

“On this particular occasion I stumbled across a woman. She was quite young, barely 20 or so. I  
heard these loud sobs. They were almost like wails. If I were a superstitious person, I’d have  
thought those woods were haunted. But I followed the noise and found her.”

She paused again, lost in the memory. She hadn’t relived it in a long time, but it was just as clear  
in her head as the day it happened.

“I walked up to her. She was kneeling on the ground, hunched over with her back facing me. I  
said ‘excuse me’ as gently as I could; I didn’t want to frighten her, but of course it did. She turned  
her body to face me, still on the ground, but I could see she was cradling something in her arms  
wrapped in a blue and white crocheted blanket.”

“It was the child,” Ellie said.

June nodded.

“I thought he was sleeping at first. I asked her if she was alright and she just held him closer to  
her. She was utterly terrified. I couldn’t just walk away.”

Her voice was starting to falter.

“I assured her I meant no harm. I asked if the child was ok, and she began sobbing again. She let  
me come closer and I knelt down next to her. That’s when I realized the child wasn’t sleeping.”

She folded her hands together on the table to keep them from shaking.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Hardy said. “Take your time.”

“When she stopped crying she turned to me. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said. I asked if she  
lived near here. I knew pretty much everyone in town and I’d never seen her before. She nodded  
yes, but the look in her eyes…”

Hardy and Ellie looked over at each other, thinking the same thing.

“She was from the colony,” Ellie said.

June nodded.

“I mean, she never said, but I assumed. Her dress was a bit too old fashioned, even for farm  
country. I didn’t blame her for not wanting to go back. The stories we heard about that place.  
Mostly rumours, mind you, but concerning nonetheless. Anyways...I suggested a proper burial.  
It sounds so morbid thinking about it now, but what else was there to do?”

“That’s when you went and got the crate,” Hardy inferred.

“She shook her head. ‘I can’t leave him in this God forsaken earth,’ she said. ‘The river. He  
belongs in the river, where he can be free.’ We couldn’t just put him in there as he was, so I told  
her to wait there while I got something for him. I don’t know why, but I ran back to the house. I  
made sure Jake didn’t see me sneak into the barn to grab one of the crates. I tried to scratch the  
name on the side off as best I could. Not for any sinister reason, of course,” she added quickly.

“It felt...disrespectful to have it on there in way.”

June met Ellie’s eyes; they were already glistening.

“I was scared she wouldn’t be there when I got back, that something might’ve happened to her.  
She wasn’t in the same spot when I returned, but I found her already by the river’s edge. We  
lined the box with grass and leaves as a bed for him. I should’ve got some blankets while I was at  
the house. She stared at him in her arms for a while, even after the crate was ready. Her fingers  
were rubbing on of the corners of the blanket. ‘You should keep that,’ I said. ‘The blanket. It’s  
beautiful.’ She smiled at me; it was as if I’d read her mind and given her the answer she wanted to  
hear.”

With each word, she fought harder and harder to suppress the emotions that were brimming up  
inside of her.

“So, she unwrapped him, kissed his forehead, and placed him down gently in the crate. Together  
we lifted it into the water and let go. ‘Goodbye, my love,’ she whispered as she watched it being  
carried away by the current.”

The entire room fell silent except for the sniff that came from Ellie.

“What happened to her after that?” Hardy asked delicately.

June shook her head.

“I don’t know. I asked if she had a place to go and she said she didn’t know. I offered to help her  
find somewhere to stay in town, but she refused. ‘At least let me bring you some food and  
money, and some spare clothes,’ I said. She accepted. By the time I got back she was gone. I  
searched the whole area, but there was no sign of her.”

“Did she tell you her name?” Hardy asked.

“No. I’ve told you all I know about her.”

“Do you still remember what she looked like?”

“I’ll never forget her face.”

“Would you be able to describe it to a sketch artist?”

“I believe so, yes. I can try.”

“Thank you.”

She mustered a small smile.

“June,” Ellie said. “Did you ever tell Jake about this?”

Shame washed over her face.

“No,” she said quietly. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

The urge to cry came back stronger this time. Her face twitched as she tried to contain herself.

“About a week before this happened,” she said, her voice barely able to form the words. “I found  
out I was pregnant. I was so happy. Jake and I had been trying since we were married to start a  
family, but it never happened. I thought I was too old at this point, but then I was late and feeling  
horribly nauseous, so I took a test. Jake was out that night, a reunion or a birthday or something  
like that, and didn’t get home until quite late. I would tell him in the morning, I thought. He was  
out in the orchard by the time I woke up; I spent the morning figuring out how I would tell him.  
Then I started having this intense pain.”

She couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears came running from her red and puffy eyes. Ellie  
pulled a tissue out of her pocket and handed it to June before taking a second one out to dab her  
own eyes.

“I lost the baby. I never told him what had happened. I couldn’t. That’s why I never told him  
what happened with the woman and her baby that day. I thought about it, but every scenario I  
played out in my head somehow lead to me having to tell him about the miscarriage. It all sounds  
so silly now.”

Her voice was coated in self-hatred; this had tortured her for years.

“It’s not silly,” Ellie said.

“What kind of person keeps something like that from their spouse?”

Hardy glanced sideways at Ellie. She was biting the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling.

“Is there anything else you can think of that might be important,” Hardy said. “Anything at all?”

Ellie was thankful for the subject change. June shook her head.

“Ok. Do you have time now to do the sketch?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Someone will be with you shortly.”

Hardy stood up to leave

“Can we get you anything? Some water, or a cup of tea?” Ellie asked.

“I’m alright,” June said. “Thank you.”

Ellie gave her an empathetic smile before following Hardy out of the room.

 

They briefed Wally on what had happened when they got back to their office. He sat on the edge  
of his desk for a moment, trying to digest what he’d just heard.

“Well, shit,” he said.

He realized that he said that out loud.

“Sorry, I just mean-”

“I know,” Hardy said. “They’re working on a sketch of her right now. We’re sending that along  
with an aged version of it to all the counties.”

“What if she’s in another country by now?”

“Let’s hope she’s not.”

“Is she a suspect then?”

Hardy gave him a vague shrug.

“Either way, she’ll have more information on what happened. We need to find her.”

Ellie sat quietly at her desk replaying the whole interview over in her head, everything that June  
had said. One sentence kept repeating itself like a broken record.

_What kind of person keeps something like that from their spouse?_

* * *

 

For the next week or so they played the waiting game, each day hoping someone somewhere  
would recognize the sketch of the woman. In the meantime they looked at old case files in an  
attempt to organize some sort of an order to tackle them in.  Wally created a filing system for them  
based on date, type of crime, and a scale that he invented to evaluate the probability of it being  
solved (the Wallace number, named after himself, of course).

“How long do you give it before we give up?” Ellie asked Hardy while they were out for lunch.

Two weeks had passed by now.

“Are you ready to throw in the towel, Miller?”

“No, not give up on the case. I mean give up on the idea that she’s still in the area. For all we  
know, she’s in Amsterdam or some unpronounceable town in Iceland.”

“At least we know she’s still alive. Probably.”

They had run her DNA against Jane Does in the system, so as far as they knew she was out there.  
Somewhere.

Ellie was also still waiting to hear back from her decree nisi. It was relatively early days,  
according to Jocelyn. She had called her the other day to see if she had an idea on how long it  
would take, which of course all varied on the situation and how busy they were, etc.

“They’re playing Christmas adverts already,” Ellie said, wanting a change of topic. “I can’t  
believe it’s almost that time again. I mean there’s still a while yet, but…”

“Yeah.”

Hardy rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’ve no idea what to get Daisy,” he admitted. “It’s the same for her birthday. Anytime I ask she  
just says she doesn’t know.”

“What’s she interested in?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know.”

He was clearly frustrated.

“And if I do find out,” he continued. “It’ll have changed by the next time I see her. Tess isn’t  
exactly helpful,” he mumbled before taking a sip of his tea.

“Yeah, Tom’s got football, so that’s always something. And Fred mostly likes the opening part of  
presents still.”

The waitress put their bill on the table. Ellie got her wallet out and put some bills down.

“It’s easier when they’re young,” he said as he stood up.

“Teenagers,” Ellie said, shaking her head.

Hardy smiled slightly and raised his eyebrows in agreement.

 

His phone rang in his pocket just as he was pulling into the station car park. He let it ring until  
he’d parked and turned off the car, but by the time he was done it had stopped.

Hardy scrolled through his missed calls as they went inside. It was Wally. Just as they made their  
way down the stairs, his phone rang again.

They entered the office and sure enough Wally was sitting at his desk, phone in hand, muttering to  
himself.

“Need something?” Hardy asked.

Wally spun around.

“Oh good, you’re back. I tried to call-”

“I know. What is it?”

“They found her. They found the mother.”

“Really? Where?” Ellie asked.

“Up north.”

“They’re sure it’s her?” Hardy asked.

Wally nodded.

“Outstanding. See, I knew we’d find her, Miller.”

She smirked and half rolled her eyes. Another road trip was in store for them.


	15. Chapter 15

Wally confused Norwich for Nottingham, so they were headed further east than north. It was still  
a bit of a drive though, which Ellie said she’d do. Lucy had agreed to take the boys for the night  
but not without some monetary compensation (“For shopping and stuff. They’re boys; they need  
to eat,” she had reasoned). Tom claimed he was fine to stay on his own for a night. There was no  
way in hell Ellie was agreeing to that, not for at least another few years.

She picked up Hardy the next morning. He came out of the house as soon as she pulled up, a  
small overnight bag in his hand that was barely larger than her purse. They would only be there  
for one night, but it still seemed rather small.

_No wonder his suits are always so wrinkled._

He tossed his bag in the backseat when he got in. Two travel cups of tea were sitting in the  
cupholders between them. Ellie handed him one.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Hardy asked as they left.

“Nah, I thought I’d just wing it, you know?”

He glanced at her sideways.

She’d gotten frustrated with the GPS and stopped using it. It had become more of a nuisance than  
an aid as of late.

“Of course I know where we’re going. Geez…”

“Just making sure,” he muttered.

They drove in silence until they were out of town.

Hardy turned the radio on and tried to find that station he had liked before. He recognized the tail  
end of a Cat Stevens song and assumed he’d found it.

_If they were right, I'd agree, but it's them you know not me._

_Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away._

_I know I have to go._

Ellie looked at the radio then at Hardy briefly before returning her eyes to the road. He didn’t  
usually have music on in the car, and the one time he turned the radio on he wouldn’t decide on a  
bloody station.

The DJ didn’t introduce the next song, but it didn’t need an introduction. Hardy knew  
immediately what it was.

_Here I am again,_

_back on the corner again,_

_back where I belong,_

_where I’ve always been._

Ellie thought he might change the station at the new song. He didn’t.

_Everything the same,_

_it don’t ever change._

_I’m back on the corner again_

_in the healing game._

“You like Van Morrison?” she asked with a bit of a smile.

“What?”

She nodded to the radio.

“Is it because he’s Scottish?”

“He’s Irish.”

Ellie smiled. The discovery of his musical taste was all too amusing for some reason.

The saxophone solo came on.

“Do you like Kenny G too?”

He rolled his eyes and turned his attention out the window.

“Oh come on,” she teased. “Billy Joel more your style?”

He turned the radio off.

“I’m done, I’m done. I promise,” she said, turning the radio back on.

He turned back over to her, his eyes piercing.

“Promise,” she said, clearly trying very hard to keep a straight face while the song still played.

She kept her word and didn’t make anymore comments on the music the rest of the way. He  
turned the station off though when they got out of range, not bothering to find a new one he could  
stand.

 

They stopped for lunch around the halfway mark. Hardy didn’t like the look of any of the places  
in the area, but they eventually settled on something that looked at least decent if not promising.  
He had only half scrunched his face when she suggested it.

It looked like the place in town they went to for lunch, but it felt less familiar. The decor was even  
similar. The waitress sat them by the window.

“D’you think we look like window people?” she said to him under her breath as they were led to  
their table.

He smirked.

The food was actually not bad. Hardy went the safe route with a salad and Ellie got her usual.

Ellie yawned. She had been up late helping Tom with a project and had to get up earlier than  
she’d wanted to pack.

“I can drive the rest of the way,” he offered.

“I’m fine,” she said, a bit too defensively. “It’s only a couple hours.”

“Ok.”

“And you’re not driving my car.”

“Ok, Miller-”

“Last time you nearly killed yourself.”

“That was before-”

“You got a heart, I know.”

“Pacemaker.”

“Whatever.”

He ran his hands down his face and folded his arms across the table.

“Sorry I asked,” he mumbled.

The waitress left their bill. Hardy threw a few notes down while Ellie scarfed the last of her chips.

The fish wasn’t as good as their usual joint, but the chips were better.

 

Ellie was in a much better mood for the rest of the drive, probably because she had food in her.  
She couldn’t remember if she had made herself toast in the morning before she left. If she had,  
she’d probably left it on the counter or something.

“Can you check what turn off I’m supposed to take?”

Hardy didn’t move, with the except of the small smirk that began to form on his face.

“Thought you knew where you were going, Miller?” he asked smugly.

“Shut up. I do.”

“Oh really?”

“I want to double check it’s the right one, alright?”

He reached for the directions in the pocket of the door.

“This’ll take you into town. Then you go right at Farmers Avenue, then left-”

“Yeah, yeah I know it from there.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I do! Go on, then. Test me.”

He folded the directions back up and put them away. Ellie muttered something inaudible and  
likely profanity ridden.

She knew they were getting close when they started to hit roundabouts in the road.

“You confirmed the reservations, yeah?”

He nodded.

“More than one bed this time?”

“Yes. We each have our own room.”

It was Ellie’s turn to raise her eyebrows.

“There are two rooms, Miller. I checked.”

He had checked a few times actually; he called them that morning just in case.

“As long as there’s two beds. Hell, I’d be fine sleeping on a couch if I had to, but-”

“You won’t have to. There’ll be two beds, two separate rooms.”

And if by some crazy happenstance the person he’d talked to had been a complete dolt and he  
only booked one room, he knew they still had at least six empty ones available.

 

It was late afternoon by the time they checked in to the hotel, thankfully with no incident. Their  
rooms were right across from one another.

“So,” Ellie started.

They stood in the hallway outside their assigned rooms.

“I checked the hours of her shop; it’s open until six. We can get settled and then pay her a little  
visit.”

“Right, sounds good.”

He nodded.

Neither of them made a move to open their door.

“Ok, well, see you in a bit,” Ellie said, taking her key out.

“Yup.”

 

An hour later there was a knock on her door. She had almost fallen asleep watching the telly.  
No, she _had_ fallen asleep watching the telly, and woken up to the sound of knocking and a  
completely different program.

“Miller?” came Hardy’s muffled voice from behind the door.

She sat up groggily from the bed and fixed her hair.

The knocking continued.

“What?” she called.

He said something she couldn’t understand.

“For bloody sakes, just come in.”

The door opened hesitantly and Hardy poked his head in.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

Ellie rubbed her eyes, probably smearing her mascara in the process (if it wasn’t already).

“You sure?”

She stopped.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

She got up, grabbed her keys, and walked past him out the door.

 

Ellie noticed the dark smudge around her eyes when she looked in the car mirror and quickly  
wiped it away before Hardy got in, not that he hadn’t already seen it.

The mother owned a shop in town only a few minutes drive from their hotel. Her name was Zara  
Emerson, but Hardy strongly suspected it wasn’t her real one. As far as they knew she lived and  
worked there, no spouse or children.

They got a bit lost on their way, through no fault of Ellie’s. The streets were unfamiliar and the  
signage was poor. It was a beautiful place though.

After five minutes of wandering and another five looking for parking, they found themselves in  
front of her shop. The sign looked handmade, but artfully done: a wooden, pale blue ribbon-shaped  
sign with “Zora’s Flour Shop” printed in yellow script.

A bell above the door dinged as they walked in. The walls on either side were lined with rows of  
the most colourful flower arrangements Ellie had ever seen. They brightened the whole room.  
Across from them was the cashier and a display case half full of cakes and tarts of varying sizes,  
muffins, squares, and platters of cookies. The entire shop smelled of warm sugar and lavender.

The woman behind the counter had her back turned. A long wavy ponytail stuck out from the  
back of her head. Her hair was a warm blonde, but natural; Ellie could see the flecks of gray in  
the light from where she was standing.

She turned around. Hardy and Ellie pretended to browse through the flowers.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hi,” Ellie replied, looking up at her only for a moment.

She was a number of years older than Ellie, but she hardly looked it. Her face, especially her  
smile, was still youthful. It was her eyes that gave her age away.

“If there’s anything I can help you with, just let me know.”

“Will do,” Hardy said.

They had talked about their approach on the way up. They’d take things casually, slowly at first,  
so as not to scare her off with their badges and questions right off the bat. She was potentially still  
a suspect, after all.

Ellie moved from the flowers to the display case of treats.

“How long have you had this place?”

“Oh, gosh. How long has it been? Almost twenty years now, I think.”

“Wow.”

“I know,” she laughed. “I can’t quite believe it myself sometimes.”

“It’s clever,” Ellie said, pointing from the cakes to the flowers. “All this together. The name,  
too.”

She smiled and shook her head slightly.

“Yeah, I’m glad people seem to appreciate it. Not everyone gets the whole pun thing.”

Ellie nodded and made a silent gesture towards Hardy. The woman laughed.

“You’re Zara, then?”

“That’s me.”

“I bet people ask you that a lot.”

“Sometimes. Most people who come in here know me, though.”

“Right, yeah.”

“Are you from out of town?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said, looking back at Hardy.

Their eyes met. He gave her a smile and a small nod.

“We’re from Dorset, actually.”

“Oh,” Zara said.

“Not far from West Milton. Just a town south.”

Ellie saw something flash in Zara’s eyes before she turned her head down, nodded, and began wiping down the counter intently with a cloth.

Hardy walked over to where they were and began absently browsing the display case.

“Have you ever been to Dorset?” Ellie asked.

She pretended to think about it for a moment, eyes still downward, then shook her head.

“It’s a nice place. Well, we like it,” she said turning to Hardy.

“Yeah. Good community where we are. Fairly safe, too, which is nice.”

“Well, except for that one time.”

“Oh, yes, right. Terrible.”

Zara turned her eyes back up to them, if only to read where they were going with this.

“It was ages ago,” Ellie explained to her. “It was in the news, though.”

“I don’t watch the news.”

“Dead child washed up on the riverbank,” Hardy said. “Tragic. Nothing ever came of it.”

“Sorry, I’ve got to close up soon.”

Hardy looked at his watch then back up at her. She knew she was caught. All of this running, all  
the hiding over the years had come undone in a few minutes.

“Zara,” he said. “We know he was yours.”

She looked from Hardy to Ellie, eyes wide.

“I’m Detective Inspector Alec Hardy. This is DI Miller.”

Ellie gave her a small smile.

“We just want to know what happened.”


	16. Chapter 16

In her 18 years on this earth, Evelyn had never seen a person from outside of the colony, that is until a midsummer’s day in 1983.  She was picking flowers, as she often did, in the field near the woods where they grew wild.  It was near the edge of their land, but she dared not go past the fence.  Her curiosity had been caged at a young age.

The rustling in the bushes on the other side of the fence startled her.  She thought she saw the top of a head, but dismissed it as a bird and continued her flower picking.  Her basket was just under half full of an array of white and violet flowers in perfect bloom.  A noise came again, this time a thudding sound.  There was no mistaking it for a bird this time.  When she turned around again she saw a boy scrambling to his feet.  No, not a boy.  A young man.  He must’ve fallen (or been pushed) off the fence.  

He didn’t notice her staring at him from over twenty feet away as he brushed the grass from his trousers and ruffled his auburn hair for good measure.  Her surprise at the stranger didn’t stop her from letting out a soft laugh at his flustered state, a bit too loudly though.  Now he took note of her.  She froze.  So did he.  Their feet locked to the ground as their eyes were to each other, neither daring to move.  As he took her in, a slow smile began to spread on his face revealing his dimples.  She couldn’t help but return the smile.  

Some called out what she assumed was his name (but couldn’t quite make out) from behind the fence where he had come from.  Another man was standing there, older looking but shorter than him.  He left her with one last grin before turning on his heels and disappearing through the brush.  

 

They don’t see each other again until September.  Their meetings in the field become a regular occurrence, but from a distance still.  It isn’t until the leaves begin to turn all the shades of fall that he gets the courage to say hello, or yell it rather.

She shushed him.  He shrugged cheekily, and she walked closer to him.  She could see his eyes now (greener than the grass after a summer rain) and the faint freckles that were scattered around his cheeks.  

“Hello,” he said again, softer this time.

“Hello.”

The fence remained between them, but he leaned his folded arms on it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.

It was one of those unspoken rules.  

“Don’t tell on me then,” he said with a mischievous grin.

She returned his expression.

“How could I tell on you when I don’t even know who you are?”

He held out his hand.

“Anthony.”

She stared at it a moment before taking it in hers.

“Evelyn.”

“Evelyn,” he repeated.  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”  

Their hands remained together.  They fit perfectly.  

A bell rung out from the center of the colony.  

She dropped his hand immediately; she had stayed out too long.

“I have to go,” she said, already turning to leave.

“Will I see you again?” he called.

She nodded and smiled before running back home.  

Evelyn took every excuse she could to go back to that field, even though the flowers had begun to disappear and days grew shorter and colder.  He wasn’t always there, but when he was she forgot about those times.  Anthony would jump the fence and they’d lie down on the blanket he’d brought.  He would stroke her hair and tell her it was brighter than the sun.  She would laugh and tell him he was a fool.  

They shared their worlds with each other, different as they were.  

Their bond grew, in body and in soul.  They found themselves in love.  

Along with the harsh winter came harsher news yet.  Her nineteenth birthday had come and along with that came her arranged marriage.  Joshua Cain was a hot-headed man almost fifteen years her senior, but he was her betrothed.  It was law, their law at least.  

The leash he kept on her was short.  It became increasingly harder for her to escape to the field, but that didn’t stop her.  They met in the early mornings while Joshua tended to his work at the farm.  It gave her at least a couple hours.  

One frosty January morning they made love while the sun rose.  A few weeks later she thought she was pregnant.  Anthony brought her a weird looking stick that he said would tell her if she was.  She was right.  There was no doubt in her mind it was Anthony’s.  Joshua could never know the child wasn’t his, so she made sure he wouldn’t.  A month later she told him they were expecting a child; he smiled.  

As the months passed, it became more difficult to see Anthony.  He had offered to sneak to her house while Joshua was out, but it was much too risky.  They went weeks without seeing each other.  

September came again and the child was born.  A boy.  

A few nights later, Joshua was out at one of the weekly meetings for the men of the colony.  Evelyn heard a soft tapping on the window.  It was Anthony.  He could see the child sleeping in the crib next to her rocking chair

She opened the door just a crack.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

She was happy to see him, but it still wasn’t safe.  

“How could I not be?  I just want to see…”

“Him.  It’s a boy,” she said, opening the door wider for him.

“A boy!”

He rushed over to the crib and stopped.  The back of his finger brushed the side of the child’s sleeping face.

“He’s beautiful.”

“He is.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and gazed at their peaceful little boy.  

“Have you named him yet?”

“No.  Joshua hasn’t decided yet.”

Anthony turned around.

“Don’t you have a say?”

She shook her head.

“Not really.”

He pulled her in close to him and kissed the top of her head.  

“He’s still ours.  And no one can take that away from us.”

She buried her head in his chest.  He held her tighter.  

“What are we going to do?” she asked, looking up at him.

Her eyes were shining.

“When you’re able, we’ll leave,” he said.  “We’ll take what we can and go far away from here.”

She was uncertain, and he could tell.

“I’ll keep you safe.  I promise.”

She forced a smile.

“You too,” he added to the boy.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently on her forehead, then her nose, then her lips.  

The door opened.  It was Joshua.

Evelyn moved away from Anthony, but it was too late.  He drew her back over to him as Joshua’s face grew red with anger.  

“I knew it!”

His fists were clenched and his eyes burned with rage on Anthony.

“Joshua, please,” she pleaded, daring to take a step towards him.  

He ignored her and reached across the wall to where his rifle hung.  The barrel stared them both down.  

“There’s no need for that,” Anthony said, trying to keep his voice as steady as he could.

“Shut up!”

Anthony remained silent, but the baby began to cry.

Joshua moved closer to the crib, motioning Evelyn and Anthony further away with the rifle.  His eyes didn’t leave their sight.  

With one hand on the rifle, he used his free hand to reach into the crib to try and soothe the child to no avail.

Anthony stood completely still while Evelyn began to convulse with sobs.  

“Is he mine?” Joshua asked quietly.

Evelyn looked up at him.  The corners of his eyes had begun to brim with threatening tears that he didn’t dare let fall.  

The child continued to wail.  She just wanted to hold him.  

“Is he mine?” he yelled as a drop slid down the edge of his cheek.  “Answer me!”

He shot a warning bullet outside the window just to the left of them, but the recoil caught him off balance.  His feet fumbled and he braced himself with his other hand, the hand in the crib.  

The crying stopped.

Joshua’s eyes widened and the red hot blood that had been boiling inside him drained from his face until he was as white as Anthony’s now clenched knuckles.  

He had felt the crack beneath his palm.

Before he knew it, Anthony lunged towards him, trying to wrestle the rifle from his hand.  A solid punch landed on Joshua’s face, splitting his lip causing blood to spray.  He got a few good hits on Anthony before he tackled him to the ground, struggling to gain control over the rifle.

She rushed to the crib and took the child and his blanket in her arms.  He felt heavier than before. 

“Go,” Anthony said.  

His forehead was bleeding from where he had been hit with Joshua’s ring-covered fist.

“But-”

“Go!”

She ran out the back door towards the border of their land as fast as she could.  It was dark; she could barely see where she was going, but she knew the way.  

“Keep running,” Anthony called.

Evelyn turned around.  She could make out two figures in the dark, both running: one was closer to her, the other was nearer the house, rifle in hand.  

A shot echoed in the dark.  

She turned around.  Both of the figures were gone.  

She kept running, faster and faster in the cold night until her legs no longer felt like they were part of her body.

She didn’t turn around again.  She couldn’t.

For the first time in her life she crossed the fence, but she hadn’t found freedom yet.  She didn’t stop running until she had reached a secluded wood.  

She collapsed on the frost-covered ground, her child huddled right up next to her, as the sound of the river merged with her sobs.

* * *

 

Hardy and Ellie sat across from Zara, or Evelyn rather, in the back room of her shop, both still taking in what they had just heard.  

“A woman helped me with him the next day.  It felt wrong to just put him in the ground.”

“She brought the crate and you put him in the river,” Hardy said.  “June Creek.  She told us.”

“I never got her name.  But yes, that was her.  I’m guessing that’s partially how you found me, too.”

He nodded slightly.

“Why did you leave after she was going to help you?” Ellie asked.

Evelyn let out a small scoff.

“Because I was young and alone.  And paranoid.  A life like that will do that to a person,” she added under her breath.  

Her voice had the smallest hint of disdain for her former self, but it was covered with the strength and pride of who she had become.

“You never heard anything from Anthony?”

Evelyn shook her head.

“After I left the woman, June, I tried to find my way back to the spot on the border where we’d meet.  I thought for sure if he were still alive he would be there.”

Ellie knew by the tone of her voice how her answer would end.

“I finally found it, but he wasn’t there.  So I left.  I didn’t have any documents at all.  No identification.”

She paused.

“I did some things I’m not proud of, but eventually I had enough money to buy an identity.  I became a real person, in the government’s eyes, and began to stand on my own feet.  And here I am.”

“Did you ever see the story in the papers after it happened?” Hardy asked.

She looked up at him; her eyes gave him the answer.

“It was too risky to come forward.  And you already knew what had happened.”

She nodded.  

Ellie glanced over at Hardy then back to Evelyn.

“We found Joshua Cain.  But there’s no need to worry,” she added quickly after seeing the smallest flash of fear behind Evelyn’s dark blue eyes.  “He’s dead.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me you found Tony in a similar state too.”

Hardy shook his head.

“No.  We never found him, just a sample of his and Cain’s blood on the nightgown.”

Ellie paused.

“Wait a minute.  Did you just call him Tony?”

Evelyn looked between the two of them, her expression just as confused as Hardy’s.

“Yes, why?  Is that important?”

Ellie turned to Hardy excitedly.  He hadn’t clued in yet.

She rolled her eyes.

“Evelyn, did he have any nicknames for you by any chance?”

“Evey.  Sometimes he’d call me Lyn to annoy me.  I hated being called that.”

“What about pet names?”

She thought for a moment.

“Sunshine, I guess.  Because of my hair.  He said the sun always shone whenever I was with him, even on rainy days.”

Ellie turned to Hardy again hoping he would finally clue in.  He hadn’t.  

“Sunshine.  Tony.”

It clicked.

“Outstanding, Miller.”

Evelyn remained the only one in the dark now.

“What is it?”

“I’m fairly certain Tony’s still alive,” Ellie said.  “And we know where he is.”


	17. Chapter 17

They offered to bring Evelyn with them on their way back and stop in West Milton to see if Tony was indeed her Anthony.  The clues fit, but there was no way to be certain until they got there.  She tried not to get Evelyn’s hopes up too high, not that there was any danger in that.  She had let go of hope a long time ago; Ellie could tell.  

Later that evening Hardy and Ellie walked to a restaurant the front desk clerk had recommended to them.  

“It’s only four blocks and there’s never any parking.  It’s worth it though.  Best spot in town,” she’d said.  

She was an older woman, surely past middle age and in no denial of it.  Her greying hair was pulled into a loose bun, and Hardy could’ve sworn she had winked at him when Ellie wasn’t looking.  

“What if it’s not him?” Ellie asked as they left the hotel.  “What if I’m wrong?”

Hardy cocked his head slightly to the side and gave her half a shrug.  

“Well thanks for that.”

He turned and gave her that look.

“If it’s not him, then she’ll be no worse off than she was before.”

She looked less than comforted.

“Don’t worry about it, Miller,” he added.

It was sincere.  

They walked past the restaurant and had to turn around when they noticed the street numbers.  When they double backed and found the place they weren’t surprised they had missed it.  It was practically a hole in the wall.  The door was discrete and the signage was minimal.  The silent street transformed into a lively bistro as they walked in.  They were inside, but the decor suggested otherwise.  The walls were painted like exterior walls to make it look as if they were in the courtyard patio of some brick and vine covered building, and there were lampposts in the corners as well as lanterns on the walls.

“For two?” the hostess asked.

Hardy nodded.

“It’ll just be a moment.”

A few minutes later they were led to a small table near the wall at the back.  

The menu confirmed it was a Mediterranean restaurant, and Ellie took great amusement in peeking up from her own menu to watch Hardy’s facial expressions as he scanned through his.  She made a game out of trying to guess which items he scrunched his nose up at.  

“Do you know what you’re going to get?” she asked casually.  “Chicken souvlaki?”

He crinkled his nose and shook his head.

“Chicken caesar?”

He screwed up his face even more.

“I don’t like chicken,” he muttered.

Their waitress returned.

“Are you ready to order?”

“I am, but I don’t think he is,” Ellie said.

Hardy was still staring at his menu.

“No, I’m ready.”

He put it down.

“I’ll have the prawn souvlaki, please” she said, handing the waitress her menu.

“And for you, sir?”

“The beef souvlaki.  No onions.”

“Being adventurous today, I see,” Ellie commented once the waitress had left.

“What?”

“Oh, never mind.”

Without their menus to look at, the both of them found themselves glancing across the room and taking it all in.  They had a perfect vantage point of the whole place.  

“It’s nice what they’ve done.”

Hardy made no comment.  

“Maybe we’re not window people after all,” she said turning back to face him.  

He looked up at her and his eyes shifted to the wall next to them.  Her eyes followed.  Painted on the wall was the window of the make-believe building they were supposed to be sitting outside of.  They couldn’t help but grin.  

The food was just as good as they had been lead to believe.  Hardy seemed pleasantly surprised at there being not even a trace of onion on his plate, even in the Greek salad (he checked).  

When the waitress left the bill on the table they both paused.  They looked at each other, trying to remember who had gotten it last time since they had walked there.  Usually they alternated driving, and whoever didn’t drive paid.  It was their unspoken system, and it worked.  

“Last time was-” she started.

“On the way up.”

“Because I-”

“Yes.”

“Right, right.”

She fumbled through her purse for her wallet and slid some notes in the black folder.  

“Do you need any-”

“No.”

“Ok.”

They sat there for a moment, waiting for the other to get up first, until they both stood up at the same time and made their way through the now packed restaurant back to the real outside.

 

Ellie went to bed as soon as they got back to the hotel.  It had been a long day, and they intended to leave by eight the next morning so they would have enough time to stop in West Milton before heading back to the office.  They weren’t sure how long their visit there would take.

The next morning, Ellie woke up to find she had slept fifteen minutes past her alarm.  She still had enough time for a quick shower thankfully, but in her rushed and half asleep state she accidentally knocked her clean towel into the toilet.

“Shit.”

At least she hadn’t gotten in the shower yet.

She walked across the hall in her pyjamas and knocked on Hardy’s door.

“It’s me.”

She heard a muffled “come in” and opened the door.

“Do you have an extra-”

Hardy was standing over the bed with his back to her.  His bare back.  He had his trousers on, but his shirt was still lying on the bed.

He whipped around.

“What are you-”

“Sorry.  You said come in.”

“I said, _don’t_ come in.”

He grabbed his shirt and quickly put it on, but not before Ellie caught a glimpse of the scar on the left side of his chest.  She turned away while he finished doing up the buttons.

“I just wanted to see if you had a spare towel,” she said to the floor.

“In the bathroom.”

“Thanks.”

She went and grabbed it.  He was already putting his tie on when she came back out.

“Thanks,” she said again, still not wanting to meet his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“At least you were wearing pants,” she tried to joke.  

He didn’t laugh.  

“Right, well, I’ll be ready in a bit.”

He gave her a small nod before she disappeared into the hallway.  

 

When they met in the lobby to check out they pretended the earlier incident hadn’t happened.  This time Ellie saw the front desk clerk wink at Hardy before they left, and she teased him about it almost the whole way to pick up Evelyn.  

They pulled up in front of a row of vibrant multicoloured townhouses that lined the edge of the river.  The colours reminded Ellie of the blocks Fred played with.  

Evelyn stepped out and locked the door as they pulled up.  Hers was the yellow one.  She had on a long tweed coat and a well used red and gold carpet bag in her hand.  

Hardy got out of the front seat to move to the back.

“Oh no, don’t be silly,” Evelyn said.  “Stay where you were.”

He held the door open for her as she got in.

“Good morning,” she said to Ellie.

“Morning,” she smiled.

Evelyn smiled back.  Ellie could see the small spark of worry behind her eyes.  She hid it well, but it wasn’t an unfamiliar expression to Ellie.  She’d seen it a number of times in the mirror.

Most of the drive was silent with the except of the occasional small talk of the weather or a passing landmark.  The radio stayed off this time.  

“Does anyone else know about it?” Ellie asked, breaking the silence.  “Your past.”

She saw the corners of her mouth turn up in the rear view mirror as if she had been waiting for that question to be asked.

“It’s not exactly the sort of thing that comes up in conversation.  I never met anyone I wanted to tell, and even if I did, I don’t know if I would have.”

“So you never…”

“Married?  No.  I suppose I’m a widow now, though.  Not that the marriage was technically legal.  Words were said and rings were exchanged, but that was it really.”

Evelyn looked down at her left hand and ran her finger over the spot where her ring once sat many years ago.  

“Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve pawned it in the end,” she said quietly, the faintest smile on her face as she got lost in a memory.

“What did you do with it?”

She let out a small laugh that reminded Ellie of Jocelyn.  

“I took a train to Great Yarmouth and threw it into the ocean as far as I could.”

She laughed, a real laugh this time.  

“It sounds foolish, I know, but it felt right.  It was freeing.”  

Ellie let her eyes linger for a moment on the tan line that remained on her left hand where her ring was less than a year ago before returning her eyes to the road ahead.  

 

Evelyn tried to fill the silences more often as they drew nearer to West Milton, mostly with happier stories about her new life and the shop.  She had never been to a proper school; the only things she knew how to do, and do well, were from her “wife work” training as they had called it: cooking, cleaning, sewing, that sort of thing.  

“It felt good using the skills they had taught me to make myself an independent business owner, knowing that if they knew they would probably have a stroke,” she chuckled softly.

She always referred to the rest of the colony as “they,” never individuals.   Ellie supposed it was fitting.  

Evelyn’s hands gripped her bag tighter as they passed the town sign.  Rain drops started to fall on the windshield, slowly at first, then fast enough that Ellie had to put the wipers on.  

The car slowed as they pulled onto Tony’s street and scanned the numbers for his house.  It was halfway down the road, a small one-storey with a white wrap around porch.

Ellie smiled.  The house was almost the exact same shade of yellow as Evelyn’s.  

She parked the car on the street just in front, but nobody moved.  Hardy turned around to face Evelyn.

“It might be best if we go and talk to him first.”

“Of course.”

Hardy and Ellie got out and walked up to the door.  Ellie could feel her stomach churning; she could only imagine how Evelyn felt.  

Hardy knocked on the door.  They waited and listened.  Silence.  

She turned to him, fearing the worst.  

He swallowed and knocked again, louder this time.  

They waited.  Silence.

“Maybe he’s not home,” she said.  

Her tone was less than convincing.  Even she didn’t believe what she was suggesting.  

Then they heard something.  A creak.  

Ellie knocked hard on the door and listened.

There was more creaking and shuffling.

“Just a minute,” came a muffled voice from inside.  

She let out an audible sigh of relief.  

A few moments later the door opened and there stood Tony with his walker, looking a bit out of breath.  He stared up at them, first at Hardy, then Ellie.  His eyes were just as green as Evelyn had described, but the whites surrounding them were almost lavender.  

“Can I help you?”

A noise came from behind and Tony looked between the two detectives.  His mouth opened, but no words came out.  Ellie watched as his eyes grew wide and began to brim with tears.  

Hardy turned around.  Evelyn had gotten out of the car and was standing in the front yard staring at Tony, smiling through her quivering bottom lip.  Her hair was already soaked from the rain, but she didn’t seem to care.

Tony took Ellie’s hands in both of his, leaning on her slightly for support.

“You found my sunshine.”

She had never seen a more grateful face in her entire life.  He turned back to Evelyn who was walking up to the door.  Hardy and Ellie stepped aside.

“Tony,” she said, placing his face in her hands.  “It’s you.  It’s really you.”

“It’s me, sunshine.  It’s really me.”

They embraced as if it were the first, last, and only time they ever would.  

Ellie promised herself earlier she wouldn’t cry, but who was she kidding.  Hardy sniffed, put his hands in his pockets, and turned away from her and them long enough to compose himself.  

After they had their moment, Tony invited them inside.  They had questions for him, as did Evelyn.

The reunited couple sat on the couch next to each other holding hands, Hardy and Ellie in the one across from them.  

“I know it’s been an eventful afternoon, but we would like to ask you a few questions,” Hardy said.

“You can ask me anything you’d like,” he smiled, stroking the edge of Evelyn’s hand with his thumb.  

“What happened after Evelyn ran?”

His smile faded.

“We fought, and eventually I got the rifle from him, but he ran out the door after her.  I...I couldn’t let him get to her, and I’m not much of a runner, even back then.  So I shot him.  Just in the leg.  I had no intention to kill him.  Even after I saw him fall down, my stomach felt sick.  I went back inside to look for any bandages or first aid or something.  All I found were spare linens and half a bottle of whiskey.  I ripped them into strips and went to where he was.  I had shot him good, but he probably could have limped away if he wanted.”  

He paused as the memory came back to him fully.

“He was just lying there, bleeding and sobbing as I quickly wrapped up his leg.  My hands were shaking so bad.  I thought he would reach up any moment and strangle me.  And he was saying something.  I only caught part of it, but he seemed to be repeated the same thing over and over again.  ‘I didn’t-I didn’t mean...’

Ellie felt the tears threatening to return.  Evelyn was staring quietly into her lap.  

Tony took a deep breath.  

“I couldn’t stay there.  I finished bandaging him, left the whiskey in his hand, and left.”

“Where did you go?”

“To our spot,” he said turning to Evelyn.  “I stayed there all night waiting.  Morning came, but you didn’t.  So I went looking for you.”

“It seems we just missed each other,” she said.  

“We shall never miss each other again.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.  

“I searched the whole town, the whole area.  Then I packed my things and left.  I had to find you.”

“You never thought something happened to me?”

He shook his head.  

“I knew you were still out there, somewhere.  I knew.  It nearly drove me mad.  Well, some say it did,” he added softly.  

She leaned over and kissed his cheek.  

“Thank you,” she said turning to Ellie and Hardy.  “Thank you.”

Ellie smiled.

“Our pleasure.”

 

Neither of them knew what to say on the way back to Broadchurch, but they each had a hunch they felt the same.  It was nice to see a happy ending, but they couldn’t help but be reminded of the state of their own lives.  

“See?  You were right, Miller.”

“Yeah,” she smiled.  

“You did good.”

“I know.”

He almost laughed.

“You did good, too,” she said.

“Thanks.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

Fall came to an end along with the case.  The closing paperwork on the Moses baby file accumulated on their desks like the frost on the ground, a thin layer of white.  Another murder solved.  

Hardy had entrusted some of the final paperwork to Wally, much to his delight, while he and Ellie began looking for their next task.  Something not quite so heavy this time, and preferably one they felt they could solve before Christmas.  

Ellie and Hardy found themselves once again sitting at their desks scanning case files.  They were back where they began, but the familiarity of it was comforting.  It was becoming routine.

“Serial arsonist, 1997.  Set fire to over a dozen barns and stables with a flaming arrow and explosives,” Ellie read aloud.

“Too complicated for now.”

Hardy rested his head in his hand as he stared at his own screen.  He rubbed his eyes from underneath his glasses.

“Okay, so nothing serial then…”

Ellie continued to scroll through the files.  So many murders.  So many unidentified bodies.

“Wally,” he called over to the corner desk.

Wally’s head perked up instantly.

“Yes, sir?”

“Can we sort these by crime?”

A crooked grin spread across his face as he leapt from his desk over to Hardy’s.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the mouse.

Hardy obliged as Wally took over the controls.

“There you go.  Sorted by crime.  Alphabetically.  You can also search keywords and-”

He caught himself rambling.

“Thanks,” Hardy said.

Wally nodded sheepishly and returned to his desk.

Ellie leaned over to see how Hardy’s screen was formatted and did the same to hers.  

“What are you thinking?” she asked.  “Thefts?”

“Probably our best bet.”

“Yeah.”

They read silently.

“Oh!  Here’s one.  An art thief from ‘95.  Looks like there were a number of incidents they think were tied together but couldn’t prove it.  All of the missing pieces were from nearby areas: antique shops, homes, small museums.  A variety of valuable items from World War II.”

He found the file and looked it over.

“No evidence to go on.  And nothing we could get fingerprints or DNA from now.”

Ellie let out a small sigh.  It had been an exhausting couple weeks for her.  She had attended her court hearing for the decree nisi, which she was called to on much shorter notice than she was anticipating.  Jocelyn helped her prepare, and she thought it went well despite nearly sweating through her blouse.  She hoped it had, at least.  Only time would tell.  

Tom had been especially supportive during this time.  He even attempted cooking dinner one night: a frozen lasagne.  He was so proud.  The edges got a bit burned, but she didn’t mind.  Fred ate it without a fuss leaving Tom with a grin on his face for the rest of the night.  

The next file she saw caught her eye.  A jewel thief, or rather a ring thief.  Robbed multiple houses and stores taking only the rings and leaving all the other valuables.  She almost wished whoever they were would come and take hers off her hands.  It was something she had been thinking about recently.  Right now it was tucked away in its box where she wouldn’t see it, but she still knew it was there.

“What did you do with your ring?” she asked Hardy.  “After the divorce.”

He blinked, but his eyes remained fixed on his screen.  His brow furrowed slightly.  

She turned to look at him; his eyes went down to the keyboard as he was about to open his mouth.

“Knock knock.”

It was the Chief Superintendent.

They turned their attention up towards her in unison.

“You have a delivery,” she said with a small smile.

A DS followed her in carrying a vase of vibrant orange, yellow, and lilac flowers in one hand and a small wicker basket of pastries in the other.  They knew immediately who they must be from.  He put the flowers on Ellie’s desk and the pastries on Hardy’s.  There was a card sticking out of the basket that Ellie reached over and grabbed.  

_DIs Hardy and Miller,_

_Please accept this small token of our appreciation.  Tony and I have found a happiness that would not have been possible without you.  We wish you both as much peace and joy as we have now._

_Sincerely,_

_Evelyn & Tony_

Ellie smiled and passed the card over to Hardy.  

“Another job well done it seems,” the Chief Superintendent said without the least bit of surprise.  “How are things going?”

“Just trying to find our next case now,” Ellie said.

Hardy skimmed over the card and put it back on Ellie’s desk.  

“Well I’ll leave you to it then.”

Ellie got a proper look at the flowers once the Chief had left.  Meanwhile Hardy picked through the basket for something he’d like.  

“These are gorgeous.”

He looked up briefly at the flowers.

Ellie turned her attention over to the pastries that he was still rifling through.  

“Are you going to touch them all?”

He paused and picked out a strudel.  

“D’you want anything, Wally?” she asked.

He was already looking at them as if he were waiting for the invitation.

“Any with nuts?”

She saw a muffin near the top that had walnuts on it.

“Yeah.”

“You can toss it over.”

“I wouldn’t trust myself.  My aim is shit,” she said as she stood up.

Hardy reached over, grabbed the walnut muffin, and tossed it perfectly to Wally.

They both looked at him, a bit bewildered at this unexpected skill.

“What?”

Ellie and Wally shook their heads and shared a smirk when Hardy wasn’t looking.  

The office returned to silence as they continued to read case files.  

“I still have it,” Hardy said softly after a moment.  

Ellie looked over at him; she’d almost forgotten her earlier question.

“Really?”

He grimaced slightly and nodded.  

“Yeah.”

She didn’t ask why; there was a part of her that somehow knew the answer.  

 

They had narrowed it down to a few cases by the end of the day, but nothing definitive.  She left the office earlier than she usually would to pick up Fred.  She wasn’t doing much there anyways.  There was a stack of mail waiting for her on the kitchen counter when she got home, but she didn’t have the energy to look through it just yet.  And she was starving.  

It was another overcast day, colder than the last: a soup day.  Tom sat in the living room watching television after he’d finished his homework.  The Christmas adverts could be heard in the kitchen while she got supper ready.  This was the first time she had felt anxious about the holidays.  There were some old traditions they just couldn’t keep up with anymore, for obvious reasons.  More change.  

After supper, Tom helped put Fred to bed.  The two of them had been spending more time together as of late, which was nice.  She had always been a bit nervous about them getting along with the age gap and all.  

It was starting to get dark outside already.  That was one of the main things she disliked about winter; it was always so dark.  The days felt like they ended so soon.

She sat down at the kitchen table with her feet up on an empty chair, the pile of mail before her.  It was mostly bills, or junk.  There was a newsletter from Tom’s school, which she skimmed over before recycling.  But one of the envelopes made her heart stop.  It couldn’t be.  Had they made a decision that soon?  She wasn’t expecting anything for at least a few weeks yet.  The letter stared back at her as she braced herself to open it.  Her stomach felt like it was in her chest and she could hear the blood pumping in her ears.  

“Oh, just do it,” she muttered to herself.  

She flipped it over, ripped the seal, and removed the contents.  Her eyes shut and she took a deep breath before opening them and reading what it said.  

As soon as she saw the word “approved” she felt the weight of the past months leave her body.  She read the letter over three times before it started to fully sink in.  It was real.  Emotions overwhelmed her; she was laughing through the tears and trying to breathe normally.  

Tom came down the stairs as she was wiping her eyes.

“Mum?”

She looked at him, smiling through her still slightly blurred eyes.  

“It’s been approved,” she said.  

Tom knew what she was referring to.  he gave her a small smile as he walked over to the table.  She stood up and wrapped him in a tight hug.  

“So it’s all done now?” he asked when they parted.

“Almost.  They’ve just said that I can get the divorce.  All that’s left now is to apply for that, in another six weeks.”

“So much waiting.”

“I know, sweetie.  But we’re almost there.  Fred’s asleep?”

Tom nodded.

“He was out before I’d finished reading the first story.”

Tom moved to go back upstairs, but he paused midway and turned around.

“I’m happy for you, mum.”

She smiled.

“Me too.”

She sat back down at the table, still coming down from the high of the good news.  She pulled out her phone and dialed.  

“Miller,” Hardy answered.  “What’s up?”

“I got a letter in the mail today,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.  “They approved me to get the divorce.”

“Congratulations, I suppose,” he said.

“Yeah, seems a bit odd to say that for a divorce,” she said letting out a breathy laugh.  “Not in this case though, I suppose.”

“That’s great, Miller.  I’m happy for you.”  

It was genuine.  

“Guess we can add formerly married to the former detectives club.”

She almost heard him laugh.  

There was a silence.  

“Are you at home right now?” she asked after a moment.

She had an idea.  

“Yeah.  Why?”

“Do you have anything up tonight?”

“No.  Why?”

“Can I come over?”

“Ehm, yeah.  Sure.”

“Ok, see you in a bit.”

She hung up on a confused Hardy and went upstairs to Tom’s room.

“I’m popping out for a bit.  Won’t be long.”

“Alright.”

She stopped by her bedroom before heading back downstairs to go to Hardy’s.  

 

He was quickly trying to tidy up when he heard her knock on the door.  His place wasn’t a complete disaster, but less presentable than he would want it to be.  

She was standing there in her orange coat when he opened the door.  He stood aside to let her in, but she stayed where she was.

“You said you still had your ring, right?”

His face scrunched up.  He was even more confused now than on the phone.

“Yeah…”

“Here?”

He paused before nodding.  

“Go and grab it.”  

“What?”

“Go on,” she urged.

He raised an eyebrow.  She gave him that look.  

He turned around and disappeared down the hall returning a moment later empty handed.

“Oh, come on,” she said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain wedding band.

“Right then.  Let’s go,” she said.  

“Where are we going,” he said, grabbing his coat.

“Just hurry up.”

“Alright, alright.  Geez, Miller.”

 

Ellie drove with determination and a secretive yet gleeful expression on her face.  He’d given up on trying to figure out where they were going, but soon enough she pulled up by the pier.  It was empty at this time of night.  It was also freezing, they discovered, as they got out of the car.  The sun had almost completely disappeared behind the horizon.  Hardy wished he had brought a scarf.  

She lead him silently down to the edge of the pier, past their usual bench.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here now?”

They got to the end and stopped.  She pulled a small box out of her jacket pocket and turned to him.

“We’re setting ourselves free.”

She opened the box and took out her wedding ring.  She motioned to his pocket, and he took his out as well.  

Their eyes met.  He understood now.  

“Are you sure about this?”

She nodded.  

“Very.”

He let out a hesitant sigh and paused, staring down at the ring in his hand.  

“Alright,” he said, closing it in his fist.  

Together, they slung their arms back and threw the rings into the ocean as far as they could, each landing with a consecutive plop in the water.  

They stood there listening to the steady sound of the waves before turning to walk back.  When they got to their bench, Hardy sat down.  Ellie followed.  

He stared out at the horizon.  It was lined with the greenish blue glow of twilight.

Ellie turned to him.

“How do you feel?”

He didn’t turn to look at her; he couldn’t.  If he did, she would see what he was feeling.  He’d just let go of the last bit of Tess that he had, the last bit of his old life.  He’d held onto it for so long.  At first it was out of hope, hope that maybe things could be how they once were, but that had died a while ago.  He’d been holding on out of habit.  Now he’d let go.  He felt good.  Better than he had in a long time.  

“Better,” he managed to get out.  

He could feel his voice threatening to quiver.  Water was forming in his eyes, but he blamed it on the wind.  

“Me too.”

She joined him in watching the sky darken.  

He turned to her; her eyes weren’t as dry as his.  She turned back to him and their eyes met.  He saw her relief; she saw what he had been trying to hide.

“Can I have that hug now?” she asked.

He smiled.  

They leaned in and wrapped their arms around each other, her grip tighter than he had been anticipating.  The last bit of moisture in his eyes slipped down the side of his face as he closed his eyes.  He felt her take a deep breath before they parted.  

“Thanks,” she said, wiping her eyes.  

They continued to sit as the sky faded from green to the dark blue of night.  Another day was ending.  Tomorrow would be a new beginning.  


	19. Epilogue

The weeks seemed to go by slower and slower as the holidays approached, but Christmas had finally arrived.  Tom was up before seven to inspect his stocking until Ellie woke up and they would open the presents.  She woke up not long after Tom, hoping to fall back asleep for at least another half hour, but she gave up and went downstairs to the living room.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she said as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Mum.”

“Do you want breakfast before or after presents?”

They usually did presents first, then Joe would make waffles.  She decided to leave it up to Tom how much tradition he wanted to keep.  

He thought for a moment, trying to decide if he was more anxious for food or the pile of ribboned packages underneath the tree.

“Maybe after.”

“Ok.”

She went into the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea, a strong one.  

“Could you make pancakes?” Tom called.

Ellie smiled.

“Of course.  Whatever you like.”

Her mind felt a bit more at ease.  

“D’you want to see if Fred’s awake?” she added.

She heard Tom leap up the stairs.  The sooner they were all together the sooner they’d get to the presents.  

 

There weren’t as many items under the tree as there had been in past years, partially due to the absence of Joe, but she had already spent more than her budget.  Overall it was a successful morning cumulating in a mess of wrapping paper, empty boxes, and dirty dishes.  

“When’s Hardy coming over?” Tom asked as he loaded the dishwasher.

Ellie had asked him on their last day in the office what his plans for the holidays were.

_“Seeing Daisy on the 26th.  It’s Tess’ year for Christmas.”_

_“What are you doing on Christmas then?”_

_He had shrugged._

_“Nothing.”_

_“Come over for dinner.”_

_“Miller, it’s fine.”_

_“No, it’s not.  Sitting alone all day in that little shack on Christmas eating pasta?  It’s just path-”_

_“I don’t want to int-”_

_“It’s not an intrusion.  I’m inviting you, aren’t I?  Besides, we do all of our stuff in the morning.”_

_He had let out a long, soft exhale._

_“Don’t be stupid,” she had added._

_“Alright, Miller.  I’ll come.”_

_“Good.”_

_“Thanks,” he’d said softly._

“Around six,” she told Tom.  

“Just him?”

Ellie smiled.

“Yes.  Daisy won’t be joining us this time.”

Tom put the last dish in and started the machine.

“So, what shall we do until then?” she asked.

They usually went to the Latimer’s for the afternoon and then stayed for dinner, but they were spending the day with Mark’s family.  

“Do you think Fred would like the Santa Claus movie?”

Tom loved watching “Santa Claus is Comin’ To Town” every year at Christmas.  He’d grown too old for it a few years ago.

“I think he’d love it.  Why don’t you go find it and get it started.”

The three of them spent the afternoon bundled on the couch watching the movie.  Fred fell asleep snuggled up next to Tom by the time it was over.

 

Hardy arrived promptly at six with a bottle of wine in his hand.  Ellie gave him a glare.

“I told you not to bring anything.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said with the faintest smirk.  

She tried not to grin as she took the bottle from his hand and brought it into the kitchen.  

Tom was in the living room helping Fred put together one of his new toys.  Hardy paused in the doorway.

“Hi, Tom.”

“Hi.  Merry Christmas.”

Hardy gave him a slight smile.

“Merry Christmas.  Did you get a good haul?”

“Yeah, pretty good,” he smiled.  

“They were both spoiled rotten,” Ellie said from the kitchen.  

Tom and Hardy shared a grin before Hardy joined Ellie in the kitchen.  She had already grabbed two wine glasses from the cabinet.

“Do you want some?” she asked.

“Sure.”

She poured him a glass before giving herself a generous helping.

“So,” he said.  “How are things?”

They hadn’t seen each other or spoken really for a number of days.  It felt strange.  

“Better now.  Not too much longer before I can send in the final form to finalize the divorce.”

“Cheers to that,” he said, raising his glass.

They each took a sip.  Hardy had taken the wine recommendation from the man at the store and prayed it was a good one.  It was.  

His eyes wandered around the kitchen until he noticed something familiar on her fridge.

“Are you going to go?”

She turned to look at him; he was looking at the invitation to Dirty Brian’s wedding.  He’d received one as well.

“I don’t know.  Are you?”

He shrugged.

“We probably should,” she added.  

“Really?”

“Well, yeah, I suppose.  I’ll go if you go.”

He made a face to indicate he was considering the deal.  

“Maybe his fiancée will have some good-looking bridesmaids.”

He almost snorted.

“Yeah, and maybe Dirty Brian’s got a single brother.”

Ellie choked on her wine.  Hardy laughed; she hit his arm.

“I’m not that desperate.”

Not anymore.

Ellie opened the oven and checked on the food.

“It’s not chicken again, don’t worry.”

She looked back at him and grinned at the mildly horrified expression on his face.

“I wasn’t going to subject you to that again.”

He remembered the dinner he’d had here before, and how he’d admitted his hatred of poultry when they were in Norwich.  His face grew a light shade of red; Ellie’s grin widened.  

“It’s not turkey either.  I figured that wasn’t going to be any better,” she said as she pulled a large dish containing a roast out of the oven.  

He peered inside and saw the roast surrounded by carrots.  No onions.

 

The bottle was empty by the time they’d finished dessert, mostly thanks to Ellie. Tom went to clear the dishes when they were finished.

“No, no, sweetie.  Don’t worry about them.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Leave them,” she ordered.

He smiled and leaned down to give her a hug.

“Thanks for supper.”

Tom and Hardy exchanged a nod and a smile before Tom went upstairs with Fred.  

Ellie finished off the contents off her glass.  Hardy ran his finger along the rim of his, enjoying the warm buzz he was feeling.  

“Did you end up finding something for Daisy?”

He nodded.

“A band she likes is coming to town in a couple months, so I got her tickets.”

“Oh, that’s nice.  She’ll like that.”

“I hope so.  Tess wasn’t too pleased when I told her, which is probably a good sign,” he joked.  

“Are you going to go with her?”

He shook his head.

“She’ll probably take a friend.”

“Oh!  Speaking of music…”

Ellie got up from her chair and disappeared into the living room, returning a moment later with something behind her back.  She pulled it out and handed it to Hardy.

“Merry Christmas.”

It was a thin, square shaped present wrapped in light blue paper with a dark blue ribbon.  

“Miller…” he growled under his breath.

“I know, I know.  But you brought wine when I said not to, so there.”

He took it from her and stared at it in his hands.

“It’s just something small.  Go on.  Open it.”

He pulled off the ribbon and carefully unwrapped the paper without ripping it.  Ellie rolled her eyes.

It was a CD.  The cover had a picture of a fork in the road surrounded by trees with the word.  

“To listen to in the car so you don’t have to fiddle with the radio.  It’s a compilation with a bunch of artists on it I thought you might like.  Well, the guy at the store helped a lot.”

He flipped it over to look at the track list and almost smiled.  Cat Stevens was on it.

“Thanks, Miller.”

“No problem.  It is Christmas after all.  It probably cost less than that wine.”

He let out a breathy laugh.  He had bought a nicer bottle than he normally would have.  

The silence lingered comfortably.  

“Do you want some tea?”

“Sure.”

 

He stayed until after both Fred and Tom had gone to bed, a lot later than he had intended.  They’d both lost track of the time until the clock struck midnight.  

“Is that really the time?” Hardy asked.

Ellie looked at the clock.

“Shit, it is.”

“I should get going,” he said as he stood up.

“Right.  You’ve got a bit of a drive tomorrow,” she said, walking him to the door.

A chill swept in from outside when he opened the door.  He could see frost had already begun to form on his car windows.  

“I guess I’ll see you in the new year,” he said.

“Yeah.  Or maybe before.”

“Yeah.”

“I hope tomorrow goes well.”

“Thanks,” he said, exhaling loudly.  

He was still a bit nervous about it.  

“It’ll be fine,” she said reassuringly.  

He nodded.

“Bye, Miller.”

“Drive safe.”

“Will do.”

He gave her a half smile and turned to leave.  

“And, Miller.”

He turned around and paused.  

“Thank you.  For…”

He tried to find the words he’d allow himself to say, but came up dry.

“I know.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please feel free to leave any comments or anything if you're so inclined :). As an added bonus, I've made an 8tracks playlist with the songs on the CD that Ellie gives Hardy - http://8tracks.com/rexalexander/onward


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